Elibe Eternal
by Zenosaur
Summary: When Roy of Pherae and Lilina of Ostia are murdered, the continent of Elibe plunges into war the likes of which has never been seen. Dark hands move pieces behind the scenes, and ordinary people struggle to survive. This is the story of these people.
1. Character roster

Elibe Eternal Character Roster

 **Number 1. Emilia**

A young woman hailing from Santaruz, Emilia is a bubbly fun loving individual. Woe betide those who end up on the receiving end of her temper. The daughter of the current Marqueis of Santaruz, Emilia finds herself plunged into the war fighting for Pherae. She will go to almost any lengths to ensure her own survival. Childhood friends with Bya. Pelagius's "Lady"

Most likely to drink all the alcohol.

Born on March 2nd. Age 20.

Class: Myrmidon.

 **Number 2. Pelagius**

A larger than life Paladin hailing from far off the beaten track. Not much is known about the man named Pelagius. An enigmatic paladin from lands unknown, his greatest love is the chivalric code. An extravagant, playful demeanor cloak his battle prowess. The man who saved Emilia from certain death. Emilia is the man's "Lady". For what is a knight without his lady?"

Avid reader of knight stories.

Born on December 31st. Age: 65.

Class: Paladin. (Lances and Axes)

 **Number 3. Asara**

Judgemental, Bitter, and Haughty would be the three words to describe Asara. A female monk, who has earned the moniker "Holy Vigilante" due to her zealous way. Currently in the employ of Ostia as their healer. Ended up prisoner in the Pheraen fort. Angry and embittered Asara bides her time waiting to escape.

Mostly like to squeal over cute animals.

Born April 20th. Age 22.

Class: Monk.

 **Number 4. Caligula**

A retired war hero of Bern, Caligula became a bard. He yearns for his days as a Wyvern Knight, but assorted injuries prevent him from returning to the force. Instead he performs at a multitude of bars, retelling his heroics. Princess Guinevere trusted him so much that he was assigned general of the Bern ground forces.

Most likely to break into song.

Born May 4th. Age 53.

Class: Bard.

 **Number 5. Isaac**

A Bernese Wyvern Knight serving under Dragon General Seliph, Isaac has limitless potential. It is more a question of whether he will ever apply it. Has an intense dislike for uptight commanders, and chains of command. Arguably the most talented member of the crops, but also the laziest.

Most likely to fall asleep during a meeting.

Born March 2nd. Age: 23.

Class: Wyvern Knight.

 **Number 6. Horace**

Arguably the most powerful and dangerous man in Elibe, Horace is an Ostian General. Uptight, stiff, and no nonsense the only time he ever feels joy is when he is on the battlefield. Holds the belief that is he always correct. As a result of this he is not above going against his leaders orders when he sees fit.

The most combat proficient man in Elibe.

Born July 4th. Age: 45.

Class: General

 **Number 7. Meri**

The current ruler of Ostia Meri is intelligent, analytical, and politically savvy. Forced to step into the shoes of Lillina Meri rose to the occasion impeccably. Despite her unusual quirks Meri is the sort of leader Ostia needed. Has a strained relationship with her strongest General Horace, whom she disagrees with on a worrying frequency.

The Sharpest Eye in Elibe.

Born December 25th. Age: 34.

Class: Sniper

 **Number 8. Gabriel**

A Spy currently under the employ of Ostia. Gabriel has a caustic wit and quick hands with knowledge of how to use both. A drink connoisseur Gabriel is most at home within a bar or behind enemy lines. Works mostly for Horace not Meri due to the larger sum of payment.

Most likely to know the exact name of the alcohol someone is drinking.

Born November 6th. Age: 27.

Class: Thief

 **Number 9. Derius**

The current ruler of Illia, Derius's reign has had two extremely different receptions. His push to reduce the amount of mercenaries and build a proper army was met with critique. When the war came knocking however praise was lauded upon him. Easy going, relaxed, and efficient Derius is ready to lead his nation to victory.

Most likely to write poetry about war.

Born October 31st. Age: 45.

Class: Hero

 **Number 10. Willow**

The youngest member of Annette's pegasus corps, and the younger sister of Annette Willow is a sharp tongued sarcastic individual. Extremely talented and full of potential Willow is a dangerous foe. A lack of experience is her downfall but she strives to rectify this. Disagrees with the war believing that both Ostia and Pherae are being stubborn fools caught up in politics instead of the larger picture.

The most caustic individual.

Born February 28th. Age: 17.

Class: Pegasus Knight

 **Number 11. Gus**

Gus is a hopeless flirt and ladies man. An Illian armor knight who has the unfortunate habit of falling in love with almost every woman that crosses his path. Despite this he is a competent combatant despite what seems to be a worrying streak of bad luck. Widely regarded as a joke, he merely takes it in his stride. Often accused of being the reincarnation of Sain.

The most romantic.

Born June 5th. Age: 22.

Class: Armor Knight

 **Number 12. Thomas**

Thomas, one of the few Illian mages. A playful young man with a sharp competitive streak. A purveyor of puns and bad jokes. His chosen discipline of magic is fire. Long time family friend of Derius and is trusted by the man. Holds a strong moral compass that directs the majority of his decisions.

The most competitive.

Born August 28th. Age: 18.

Class: Mage

 **Number 13. Owar**

Owar is the 2nd member of Annette's Pegasus corps. Arguably the kindest of the group Owar still holds a mischievous streak. Firm believer in defence over offense. Clashes with her leader often over ethics and tactics. Outside of the battlefield she speaks in a dignified tone, often leading to accusations of being upper class.

The most graceful.

Born September 8th. Age: 18.

Class: Falcon Knight

 **Number 14. Annette**

Leader of an Illian Mercenary group known as Annette's pegasus corps. Annette herself is a sharp witted individual and the older sister of Willow. Tough and no nonsense Annette is a capable leader. Loves the thrill of battle and has a well known psychotic laugh. Often becomes obsessed with striking down one opponent. Firm sense of honor assisted by a keen sense of self-preservation.

Most chilling laugh.

Born April 1st. Age: 26.

Class: Falcon Knight

 **Number 15. Felius**

The current ruler of Pherae. Before his quick ascension to fame, Felius was a mere low ranking officer. Despite his combat prowess he could not seem to find promotion. When Roy was killed, Felius was the only man who kept his cool. Quickly seizing his chance he catapulted himself to glory. A warm caring individual to his men, and a destructive force to his foes. Criticized for his foreign policy.

Most powerful axe arm.

Born June 19th. Age: 35.

Class: Warrior.

 **Number 16. Nifren**

The Young idealistic leader of the Etruria revolution Nifren will do anything to liberate his people. Sharp witted, nerves of steel, and a burning desire for freedom. Nifren is happily engaged to his second in command Sif and leads a brutal guerrilla campaign against government forces. Has popular support from the people of Etruria.

The most elegant fighter.

Born July 21st. Age: 20.

Class: Swordmaster

 **Number 17. Sif**

Sif, the nomadic beauty. Nifren's second in command and fiancé. Sif herself hailed from Sacae but found Etruria to be her true home. A keen military mind quickly found her associating with Nifren, and from there the sparks flew. Stern, with a hint of sass, Nif is a mother figure to the revolutionaries and has the final say on all tactical decisions.

The one with the deepest heart.

Born March 21st. Age: 26.

Class: Nomad Trooper

 **Number 18. Samuel**

Samuel is a humble priest of Etruria. His personality however is hardly priestly. Energetic, expressive, goofy and just plain spoony. Made a missionary of the church and as such has travelled quite a lot. A long time friend of Nifren, he finds himself unable to support the revolution. His favorite place in Elibe is Ostia.

You spoony priest!

Born April 2nd. Age: 17.

Class: Curate.

 **Number 19. Candace**

Candace Fellamare was the daughter of a rich Etrurian official. As such when revolution gripped the nation her father was slain and her home turned to ruins. Despite all of this she refuses to let her innocent spirit be crushed. It is her belief that the revolution can be ended with mere words. Potential rests deep in her soul but has yet to fully awaken.

The most innocent.

Born 7th August. Age: 17.

Class: Valkyrie

 **Number 20. Alexes**

A female troubadour under the employ of government forces, Alexes is opposed to the revolution. Personally however her feelings are far less cut and dry. Reserved and highly duty bound she lends her stave to the many wounded individuals being produced by the war.

Least likely to break her word.

Born December 1st. Age: 19.

Class: Troubadour

 **Number 21. Marcven**

A crook by any other name is just as vile. Marcven is a purveyor of goods and the head of the largest thief ring in Elibe. His employees just so happen to be the young of Etruria. Marc himself is a shrewd, sharp, egotistical, coward. Yet when it comes to his darlings he has all the time in the world. He is the actual force powering the revolution, keeping Nifren's men equipped.

The nimblest fingers.

Born 25th October. Age: 55.

Class: Crook

 **Number 22. Celyn**

Celyn has the dubious title of being Marcven's adopted daughter. Left on the streets she was taken in by the thief and risen as his own. Celyn dedicated herself to the pursuit of knowledge, letting her social skills fall to the wayside. Now as a young woman she dedicates herself to aiding her father in his ventures and attempting to improve her social skills.

Walking Encyclopedia.

Born 1st March. Age: 20.

Class: Cleric

 **Number 23. Harris**

Harris is just a simple lad from the Western Isles who wishes to be a hero. So when war came knocking, he answered. Serious and stern he despises those who cloud their meanings with sarcasm. Wishes to pen tales about his heroics.

Budding writer.

Born 5th February. Age: 20.


	2. Prologue

Elibe Eternal

The continent of Elibe is one of valor, heroes, villains, and conflict. From the tales of Eliwood, Lyndis, and Hector, to Pent and Canas, to Roy of Lycia, and Lilina of Ostia. Bards sing their tales, scribes immortalize their tales, parents orate them to their children. Roy and Lilina are oft praised for bringing peace to Elibe. Ending the reign of the King Zephiel of Bern, repelling the dragon threat much like their parents. Many expected the dawn of an era of peace. Alas. Conflict is interwoven into Elibe's very existence and soon a reckoning the likes of which had never been seen prior would engulf the continent. War on a scale unlike any other to have graced Elibe. Allegiances shattered, towns in ruins, death and decay the name of the game. And it started ever so simply.

Good King Roy. The affectionate nickname that the people of Pherae gave to the son of Eliwood and Lyndis. The man who defeated the Mad King Zephiel and slew the Demon Dragon Idenn, bringing peace to the land. Or so they thought. When Roy returned home to Lycia, there was much controversy. He returned home alongside the Mage General of Etruria, Cecilia. The reception was decidedly lukewarm. Many of his subjects believed that Roy would end up marrying Lilina, so as to bring around unity between Pherae and Ostia. There was another camp of people who found the age difference between the two troubling, but in the end the people of Pherae accepted it. His rule was one of great peace, occasionally punctuated by a bandit attack, and prosperity. Pherae had never had it quite so good.

Stoic Lilina. Not a nickname in terms of speaking, rather her general personality after all the events. Having her father killed, forced into imprisonment, rescued by the man she loved to only see him drift away from her. A lesser person may have been crushed by these events. Lilina rose to the occasion. When she finally returned to Ostia, she took to leadership like a duck to water. With a strong understanding of financing, inherited from her mother, a sharp military mind, and keen intelligence Ostia flourished. The same could not be said of her personal life. She would never find a mate, as she still held feelings for Roy. Many of her critics argued it affected her foreign policy, in regards to Pherare. Every ruler has critics however, and Ostia was in a golden age.

"Castle Pherae home to Good King Roy…surprisingly low amount of guards, should be easy enough." yawned a hooded man. "In and out." He smiled as he slowly pulled his mouth mask up over his chin. He moved, feet soft as fresh grass, towards the castle low and fast. There were only two guards outside the main entrance, one of them decidedly incompetent. His helmet was over his eyes, as he leant against the wall. The man smirked. "The advantage of peace. Sure makes my job easy." With quick deliberate movements, he was soon in front of the awake guard. In a flash, a gloved hand covered the guard's mouth as a knife quickly made itself at home in his throat. Eyes wide he gurgled into the glove before slumping to the ground. The asleep guard was hefted on to the man's back making a splash as he deposited into the watery moat. Crouching before the castle door he cocked his head. His lock picks would not be able to penetrate the defence yet he didn't skip a beat. Rapping his hand on the door, he then quickly slid into the nearby shadows. Soon the large wooden doors creaked open, an elderly guard peering out.

"Dorn?" would be the last words the man uttered as a knife found purchase in his neck. With that, the hooded man was now inside Pherae castle. "Now. The real work can start."

"Of course I get the short stick…" scowled a hooded woman, as she examined Ostia castle. Compared to it's counterpart back in Pherae, Ostia was a venerable fortress. Several patrolling guards, alongside a squad of armored knights. Only one visible entrance and exit. A nightmare for would be assassin. The sneaking option would not grant her entry. So it was simple then. Quickly darting her hand down to her knife she grasped it. She brought it up, and plunged it into her stomach. Deep enough to bleed heavily, but not quite deep enough to cause severe injury. Gritting her teeth as she staggered forward she weakly placed her hand on a guard's shoulder. "You.. have.. to help.. me please." She begged of the man, her eyes desperate. The guard nodded to his companion. The Ostian doors soon were pushed open, and the woman was soon inside.

"I'll take you to Asara. She's a travelling monk from the Western isles. She'll get you fixed right up love. May I ask, what exactly happened?" The guard asked with warm concern.

"I… ngh. I need help. I can explain.. soon." panted the woman, cutting any chance of conversation short.

"Well. To your left is Asara's quarters. I must get back to my post." remarked the guard as he turned on his heel soon out of sight. Grunting the woman smiled.

"Now. The real work can start."

Castle Pherae had a simple layout. Once you were in, as long as you kept going straight you could find Roy's quarters. This was to prevent any one who needed an audience with the Marquis from getting lost. The hooded man surely did not complain as he moved swiftly, from pillar to pillar. Security was lax at Pherae, with very few guards stationed around the castle. This however, had no plausible reason behind it. Slowly humming to himself, the man crouched in front of the Marquis's chambers. Locked. As expected. A lockpick was soon applied to said doors, and he softly opened them. He frowned slightly cursing. Roy was alone in bed. His wife, Cecilia was nowhere to be seen.

"Slight hitch." He growled as he moved towards the sleeping Marquis. Roy's chambers were sparse, a simple double bed, one table, and a wardrobe. Hardly befitting of a Marquis. This was his choice, as he felt that he should live like his people so as to form a better connection. As the man hovered over Roy he frowned. He had grown old and it showed. No more years of wear and tear left. Not that it mattered. Placing his gloved hand over Roy's mouth he quickly and methodically slit the man's throat. He took solace in the fact Roy would feel nothing. Sighing he placed an Ostia Signet on his corpse.

"Long live the ki-"

"Roy? Wait. Who the hell are you?" Cecilia exclaimed. The man swore under his breath as he barreled towards her. Once within arm's reach he slammed his knife into her knee, sending her sprawling to the ground. Quickly dragging her up by her hair he hissed into her ear.

"You made a mistake." He stated simply punctuating the sentence by slitting her throat. Cecilia gasped as her body spasmed, the life draining from her. With one last angry stab, she fell to the ground, her blood staining the floor. Coughing the man shook his head, quickly darting out of Roy's window, his job complete.

Lilina sat at her desk frowning. Her quill rested in her hand as she stared at the blank parchment which was intended to be a letter to Roy. Yet she could not find any words. She had no reason to write to him besides an uncomfortable gut feeling. With a shake of her head, she placed her quill back in the pot sighing. She headed back to her bed slowly preparing herself for slumb, when her door opened. She cocked her head, just ever so slightly confused.

"Yes? Is there something needed of me?" She asked as she started to head for the doors. The hooded woman frowned. It was going to get dirty. With a grunt she slammed her shoulder against Lilina's stomach, ramming her into the ornate wardrobe taking up the eastern wall. In sharp contrast to Roy's quarters, Lilina lived rather well. Not that she would be for much longer. She struggled under the woman's grasp as she opened her mouth to scream for assistance. A knife inside her upper jaw soon cut that prospect short. The woman grunted, her own wound burning from exertion, as she forced her knife down the Ostia's rulers throat. Much as Lilina tried to struggle old age betrayed her and she soon fell limp, sliding down the now blood stained wardrobe. Sighing the masked woman quickly tossed a ring bearing the symbol of Pherae on to the corpse. She simply walked out of the building smiling at the guard who assisted her.

"Thank you kind sir." She said with a warm smile. The sun slowly rose and Elibe would soon be engulfed in war

"The Marquis is dead! The Marquis.. our poor boy.. sweet Roy is dead!"

"The Queen, she's slain. Her life stolen away from us in the dark of the night!"

"The Marquis has perished!"

"The Queen!"

"The Marquis!" These were the exclamations of the people the morning after. There is a saying: Good news travels slowly, and bad news has wings. Within hours the news had soon spread to the many countries of Elibe. As did the signets on the bodies. The tinder for a wildfire had been laid.

"We must rally against these Ostian scum! They slipped into Pherae under the cloak of night, and murdered our defenseless king! They threaten our way of life, our very being! We must rouse the rest of the Lycian league to oust these villains!" Felius roared. Felius had become the new ruler of Pherae. A low ranking military officer, he had been one of the few to remain level headed during the initial panic. This allowed him to position himself in such a way that he could snatch leadership. Roy had left no heir, Cecilia found to be barren, and as such Felius was given free reign. Needless to say the people were whipped into a frenzy by his words. Pherae was marching to war.

"You are sure we can not bring Pherae to cancel their plans? This is lunacy! To march on us? We did not kill Roy, and I know they did not kill Lilina... " Meri scowled. "Fine. Prepare the men. We must launch a fast assault. End this as quickly as we can.. resolve it. Contact Illia. We will need their might behind us." Ostia, unlike Pherae had a leader ready incase of such an occasion occurring. Meri had been Lilina's foreign advisor as well as a trained sniper. Lilina had chosen Meri herself. This was to prevent Ostia from devolving into chaos. When the news broke she was quickly summoned and instituted as ruler of Ostia. Regrettably her diplomats could do nothing to change Felius's mind. Ostia was marching to war.

"Now my brothers! We must rise up now! It is our time, our chance. A second one won't come around like this. Cecilia is dead. Murdered. The other generals are scrambling, distracted. We can finally bring the people to power. A democracy! Now my brothers. Raise up!" boomed frowned, hanging his head running for the church.

"Etruria cannot be plunged into revolution like this. Nifren had been planning this.. how could I not see?" he mumbled, feet moving rapidly.

"We will pledge our support to Ostia. Lilina is part of our bloodline. There is no doubt. Whilst this war may be unpleasant, we do not leave our allies behind. That will be all." was the simple statement of Derius. A talented hero, he ran Illia as a fair but stern leader. Annette, Owar, and Willow frowned, their faces drawn. It seemed that war had arrived yet again. Illia was marching to war.

"People of Bern! Heed my words. I have lived through a war. Seen us be the aggressors, seen my brother fall. I have witnessed the agony the people went through, their torment and anguish. We must not stand idly by. Bern will stand to prevent this war. I will not see Elibe plunged into the same chaos that ravaged the land 45 years ago. Bern will stop Ostia, Pherae, and anyone else who may wish to start a war. Force is sadly necessary.. but we can halt the blood flowing any further." Guinevere of Bern had to stop at this point, feeling rather shaky. Isaac turned to Caligula and smirked.

"Hell of a speech she just gave." He said with a cocky grin.

"Hell of a war that we just got ourselves into" Caligula shot back. Bern was marching to war.


	3. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Collapse

Emilia gritted her teeth clenching her left side with both hands. Small tears formed in her bright brown eyes and she staggered falling onto her right side."Ngh.. god.. damn it. Come on Emilia get up. I am not dying here." She grunted as she tried to struggle up. Briefly pulling her hands away from her side she planted them on the ground and with a squeal Emilia barely managed to get to her feet. The small section of ground that her hands had touched was now stained by red prints. She winced as she kept limping forward, the rain splashing upon her blonde hair. It was hopeless. She'd never make it. She was going to die. All for Pherae. Santaruz just had to ally itself with Pherae, her uncle owing Felius a favor. And she was going to die for it.

Emilia's knees buckled as she shook her head. Can't fall here. Throw her life away for nothing. Behind the young woman roared the sound of a vicious battle. Ostia had launched a blitz attack for which Pherae was woefully unprepared. Even with the majority of the Lycian league behind them, Illia gave Ostia the edge. Said nations pegasus knights had given Ostia the moblilty to launch their blitz. The pegasus knights would fly forward, and needle the Lycian forces and prevent their retreats. Eventually the Ostian Armor battalions would arrive and then smash through. So far it had worked like a charm, as Emilia and her small group of men had found out. It seemed that for her it would soon be over. With a shaky breath her legs finally fell from under her, and she landed hard on her shoulder. Her eyelids began to droop, as she stared weakly forward. A spectre seemed to dance in front of her eyes, the ghastly image of a brave paladin charging to her rescue. Sighing weakly she slipped into unconsciousness.

Pelagius yawned idly as he head his horse forward, looking over the scenery. A smile creased his face, as he ran his fingers over a nearby rose bush.

"Ah, Lycia. It always was my favorite part of Elibe. Reminds me of home." He remarked softly. His horse continued to trot slowly onward before Pelagius quickly stopped it. Frowning he calmly dismounted. Soon, the sounds of the nearby battle were affronting his ears. "Tch. War? Here as well? Peace seems to be only a fleeting illusion..." He sighed solemnly. Then something most troubling came to his attention. A young woman coated in claret laid out in the middle of the road. He moved quickly, lifting her up. Fingers straight to her neck, checking for a pulse. A satisfactory nod. Pelagius was soon back at his horse, lifting the unconscious Emilia to rest on it. With efficient movements she was soon secured to the horse, and with a quick hop Pelagius was back in the saddle. "Come on, Abaccus. Back to that wee hut we saw. Go!" He yelled, his horse breaking into a rapid gallop. "For her sake.. hope we make it in time." were his words as he soon vanished over the nearby hill.

Emilia groaned as she slowly came around her eyes flickering open. She quickly eyed her surroundings. A squalid hut out in the middle of nowhere it seemed. A pile of hay to her right, a pitchfork and bucket to her left, and not much else. Trying to stand up caused a wave of pain to radiate throughout her body.

"Damn.. stings like hell.." She frowned before wondering, just how she was still alive? Lowering her eyes down to her side she spotted several bandages that she knew she had never placed. She shook her head. Just who exactly had saved her? Emilia grunted, placing her hands on the wall beyond her. Didn't matter. She was going to get the hell out of here. Gritting her teeth in preparation, she snapped into a standing position. Pure white flashed across her vision as pain exploded across her entire body.

"Not sure I would attempt that if were you sweet. You seemed to be on the losing side of a fight. Yes I'm sure I ought to see the other guy. People always say that. Typically the other guy wins. So why would I wish to see him?" mused an unseen figure. As Emilia's vision slowly returned to her the figure became clear. Her brave valiant knight! A dashing, wizened old man? Scraggly beard, lack of hair and all. Trying her best to not show her disappointment, Emilia smiled.

"Did you supply me with these bandages sire? If so I must thank you, Sir Knight. You have done me a great debt." She remarked stiffly in an attempt to be polite.

"Pish posh. Sire? Sir Knight? I am merely Pelagius. A travelling knight. I stumbled upon a wounded maiden and I rendered aid unto her. Your lovely green shirt stained with red. It was an affront to the eyes. I merely did my du-" The old man rambled on, making several hand flourishes as Emilia watched him, not quite sure what she was seeing.

"Well Sir Pelagius I thank you. Now I must be getting back to the battle" She replied rigidly as she fumbled with her head band.

"I shall escort the lady back. Youths should not be alone in such a hellish battle. My lance can still be deployed to scour the land of dastards!" Pelagius exclaimed with several flourishes. Emilia furrowed her brow as a forced smile formed.

"Yes. Why I would love to have you aid me. Wish for nothing else. An old man? What could possibly go wrong." She sniped sharply, aggravated from her situation.

"Perfect! The Knight and his lady! Side by side. Slaying evil and bringing purity to the land!" He grinned widely as he slowly climbed up onto his horse. Emilia walked over slowly, before climbing onto the horse behind him. With a slight kick to Abaccus's flank the stallion broke into a gentle canter. Pelagius and Emilia were returning to the fray.

"Is there any way you can make this horse go faster?" Emilia asked, any pretence of politeness gone frustration seeping into her voice.

"Abaccus will go as fast as he sees fit. Back home I've seen horses faster than this, that never listen. Besides my dear, why the rush to get back to a battle? You seemed to be losing judging from the nasty gash in your side. Pray tell who gave you wound?" Pelgius rambled.

"Some blue haired falcon knight. Seemed to have a group under her command, been needling our backline. I was falling back to the fort to resupply when she caught me off guard. Lance to the side. I gave her a nasty little number across her cheek. Fled when Felius sent men to the backlines." Emilia snickered with a slight hint of vindication in her voice.

"Ah. So you slashed your sword across her villainous face! Sending the rogue packing, her honor shattered on the wind!" Pelagius chuckled. "Good show my dear." He said as he sighed. The sounds of the battle had dimmed slightly, but the two armies were still going at it. Pherae had done little much besides lose ground and men, whilst Ostia had kept the pressure up. Pelagius carefully nodded his hand gripped around a simple steel lance. "You are sided with the Pheraen's, yes? We must aid them for soon they fall.. to battle!" He yelled extravagantly as he let Emilia down. She said nothing but gave him a small nod as she drew her blade. Pelagius ensured that she was safe, before drawing his lance fully. "Onward we go. To meet our foe whom shall drown under our blows!" He roared before charging straight into the thick of the battle.

Felius was astounded. Just when it had seemed the line would collapse the young woman from Santaruz had made it back. With back up. At first Felius had dismissed the Paladin that had returned with her, merely seeing a senile old fool. However when he saw said fool in action his opinion soon changed. The man was a tornado, cutting the Ostian men down like wheat. His lance darted left and right, claiming a life with each thrust. Felius had the image of spear fishing burnt in his mind with the Ostian men being the fish. Emilia was also quite in awe of Pelagius as she continued to watch him fight. Swiftly ducking under a clumsy axe blow she sliced down an Ostian man about to attack Pelagius. That was about the extent of her ability in her current state. For a man of his age Pelagius was hardly feeling it, caught up in the quest for justice. Emilia kept watching Pelagius, reap his bloody toll, when she felt a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Madame from Santaruz. We need to fall back. Regardless of your little friend we're losing too many men. There is a fort to the south of here. Ensure your men fall back. Your knight as well. I'll hold the line until the evacuation is complete." Felius said to her.

"Sir. What about the prisoners? Would you have me lead them to the fort as well?" Emilia asked back concern on her face.

"Yes. Treat them well. Feed and water them. We'll need them in good condition for negotiation. Could very well save the day my dear. Now getting moving soldier!" He shouted back at her before charging back into the breach. Emilia quickly yelled at her small regiment, her soldiers falling in quickly. She motioned south before pointing to a small group of Ostian hostages. Among them sat a monk a frown on her face.

"St Elmine would strike Pherae down for this foolish war. Stubbor-" were the venomous words that could be heard as she was lead down to the southern fort. Emilia just had one loose end to attend to.

"Down you cur! Nay I say nay!" roared Pelagius as his lance continued it's bloody work. "For peace to return you must fall. A sad task but necessary!" He exclaimed as he kept smashing the Ostian lines. He suddenly felt a slight increase of weight on Abaccus and smirked."My lady. Shall we continue with our work?" He grinned warmly.

"No Sir Pelagius. My commanding officer has requested we retreat to a southern fort. Though I've no doubt that you can continue to slay these curs." Emilia said playing into his behavior a little. "He refuses to leave until you and I leave." She sighed finishing her sentence. Pelagius nodded quickly turning his horse. Understanding the situation he had Abaccus break into a gallop.

"Away then. The Knight and his Lady leaving the battle, covered in scars and glorious hard earnt wounds. Doubly so in your case." He said a slight hint of snark in his voice as they left the roar of the fight behind them. Emilia rolled her eyes slightly as she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Felius saw her retreat, nodded, and began his own.

"Fall back men! We must not fall here!" He barked as he headed south.

It was going to be difficult for Felius to make it to the fort. Ostia had sensed that Pherae's line had weakened and were attempting to capitalize on this.

"Men. Form up! If we lose Worde then Ostia has a direct foothold! Fight as if there is no tomorrow!" Felius roared swinging his axe down to the left sending an Ostian knight sprawling. The Ostian line was advancing rather like a glacier. Slow and inevitable. "To the right, in to that ditch. Go men!" Felius commanded as he rolled into said ditch. Soon he and his personal guard were nestled inside. Above them flew Illia's pegasus knights, a blond haired woman scanning the area. Advancing on the ditch was the legendary Ostian Armor Knights. Things looked grim. "You men. Flee. South. Through Telpfourth. The Ostians won't attack Worde civilians. They haven't joined the war yet. Tomorrow they will… so tell them to evacuate. I'll stop the Ostian's for as long as possible." He stated clambering out of the ditch before his men could say anything. Sighing, he rolled his shoulders gritting his teeth. "Here we go…"

Downward smash. Left swing, forward thrust, roll to the right. Fall back two steps. Duck. Smash smash smash! Felius's head was coated with sweat, his arms coated in minor cuts. The Ostian line was being singlehandedly held back by one man. Their morale was starting to falter, as Felius continued his rampage.

"Smash upon me Ostia! Fall to my axe, for Pherae may never fall!" Felius yelled towards his foes, quite worked up at this point. His rampage would have continued unchecked if it were not for the Ostian snipers finally arriving.

"You get here now? The sun has set! Never trust a sniper.." muttered the Ostian commander. "End the man." He barked to them pointing at Felius. With a nod a volley of arrows flew towards Felius. Fel's eyes widened a miniscule amount before he jumped backwards. The arrows punctured the ground a mere few meters in front of him. Nodding quickly he turned running towards Telpfourth, forced into retreat. "Send the pegasus knights. Not the trio though. We'll need them for tomorrow." Ordered the Ostian commander.

Telpfourth was a simple quiet town located on the outskirts of Worde. Worde itself was a small unremarkable territory in Lycia. Yet in tactical terms it was huge. If the Ostian's were able to gain control, they would have a foothold in Lycia. From there they could run supply lines and continue to push deeper until they eventually reached Pherae. So in a surprising spot of political savvy, Felius had asked Worde to delay joining the war. He knew that the county would be the first target and as such wished to safeguard the civilians. Ostia may be ruthless, but he knew they would never murder unprovoked civilians. Of course none of that quite mattered at the current moment. What did matter was dealing with the pegasus knights chasing him through the town. The streets were too enclosed and narrow. He would have to get to the town center. He kept running.

Panting and huffing Felius stood tall.

"Come then foul beasts! Test your worth against a Pheraen!" He roared beating his chest. The division sent after him slowly flew into the town square. Behind Felius stood a large clock tower, to his right several market stalls, and to his left a courthouse. The center was wide and open. Perfect. They soon dove, heading straight towards him. The first one had the pleasure of taking an axe square between her eyes, her body crumpling to the ground. The second Knight found her pegasus target, both wings swiftly clipped as Felius rampaged through the division. The third knight found herself rather unceremoniously removed from her mount, slammed to the ground. She would be found by the Ostian's dead from a broken back. The fourth and fifth knights fled, tucking their tails. "You choose to stay? Foolish." Felius said flatly, before jumping up at the knight slamming into her Pegasus. The three of them, Fel, Knight, and Mount landed with a thud on a nearby roof. With a bellow Fel picked the woman up, squatted slightly, and threw her. The people of Worde would awaken to find a new ornament upon their clock tower. Mumbling weakly Fel continued his retreat.

"Ah. Is this the fort milady? Our humble abode? Rest for weary, for we are not wicked?" Pelagius smiled as he dismounted from his mount, before helping Emilia down. She smiled warmly and giggled.

"Yes. Here we are. Home." She said sighing. "Won't be long before the Ostians reach here as well. Hope Bya is ok.." She frowned wearily as she entered the fort, Pelagius right behind her.

"Bya? Does the Lady have another friend in need of protection? I am sure I can be of aid!" Pelagius said with an almost childish glee.

"Childhood friend from Caelin. Archer. She's gonna be important with all those flying rats in the air…" She said, worried. Pelagius could sense Emilia's unease and nodded softly, placing his gauntleted hand on her shoulder.

"She will be perfectly fine. If the need arises I shall ride to her aid." He said smiling warmly. Emilia laughed slightly as she properly took in her surroundings for the first time. The fort was a medium sized building, large enough to house the battered forces of Pherae. To the right was an extensive sleeping quarters which at the current time had been turned into a makeshift medical bay. To the left were the holding cells, in which the prisoners were currently being detained. Besides that it was a standard fort. Pelagius smiled as he tied Abaccus to a post outside. "Such a lovely abode for us. We shall rest and destroy our foes!" Emilia nodded softly.

"We'll need to wait for Felius. Just to ensure the captain has made it back." She said with a tired edge in her voice. Pelagius simply nodded as he wandered over to the holding cells. He squatted down looking through the bars at the same monk from the battle.

"Milady. You are of the cloth yes? St. Elmine?" Pel asked a serious tone on his face.

"I will not talk to morally dubious individuals. Begone, heathen." Asara scowled right back at him.

"Your black hair seems to match your attitude. Not a very good thing for a woman of the cloth." Pel smiled. "Fix that my dear. Else your god might be disappointed." He said before strolling away. Asara seethed as she watched the man walk away. Who was that old coot to judge? Allied with the Pheraens's and judging her character? She had heard and seen it all now. With his return to the front of the fort Pelagius was met by Emilia.

"My knight. We may rest. The commander has return-" With a slight yawn Emilia fell into Pel's arms completely spent. Smiling warmly at the younger woman he slowly laid her down on a bed. With a sigh he stepped outside, arms behind his back. Contemplating the stars.

Caligula adjusted his purple robes ever so slightly before stepping into Bern's throne room. The room was packed with officials, soldiers, even some wyverns. In the midst of it all was Queen Guinevere. Caligula stuck out, a bard amongst fighters, a commoner amongst the court, but he refused to allow it to bother him. He had been a prestiged fighter long before these bureaucrats had even been injuries had prevented him from continuing his service, he had worked under the young Queen Guinevere. Regardless he had no time for ruminating. The Queen had summoned him to her chambers in regards to the war effort. Arriving at the throne he bowed, gritting his teeth slightly before standing back up.

"My Queen. You requested my presence?" He said cordially.

"Sir Caligula. It is good that you answered my request. Your job will be one of the utmost importance." Guinevere replied, skipping straight past formalities. A look of bemusement darted across Cal's face.

"My job, milady? I sing to children at the schools. Hardly important for a war." He said with a wry smile.

"More important than you might think. Regardless of that fact you have a new job. I'm assigning you to the be the commander of our foot units." She stated before turning to another official, presuming he would accept. Caligula frowned.

"As much as I would like to protect the innocent people and stop this bloodshed… I hardly find myself suitable. My vision is impaired, and I can't wield any form of weapons." He replied, voicing his concerns.

"Yes divert the men west! Ah. My Caligula. You don't need to fight. You will command. The people love you, they beg for your return. You will inspire our men to new heights." She said sighing. "But if you do not wish to take the position, I must know now. Allow me to find someone as soon as possible." Caligula frowned at this statement from Guinevere before sighing.

"I must return home. Inform the missus. Get my instruments. I'll report back here within three hours." He said spinning on his heel striding away, not caring for the Queen's reply.

Caligula slowly opened his door to his small house before yelling in.

"Sweetheart? I'm home. You ok?" He asked wearily as he shut the oak door behind him. His house was not befitting of a hero of state. A small simple abode. Wooden floors, sparse furniture and one bedroom. Zephiel had damaged Bern beyond repair during the war, and as such the nation had a hard time recovering. Many war heroes ended up living in squalor. Cal considered himself lucky. Slowly hanging his cloak up, he rested against his bedroom door. "Melody? I'm coming in. You alright?" He asked softly slipping into the room. His wife laid asleep in his bed, as she had done for the past two years. He shook his head, his tired green eyes misting up slightly. Stepping out he headed to the kitchen, before slamming his fist down on the work surface. "To hell with all of it! Why won't she just wake up! Every day. Just." He took a deep breath before pouring a small glass of wine. He had work to do.

Isaac yawned, reclining into the plush seat of the Barracks mess room. Despite the fact that he was soon to be deployed against Ostia he was remarkably calm. The rest of his unit were all aflutter, writing letters home, practicing breathing, and constantly asking the general if things were going to be ok. Isaac didn't mind. Meant he got the lovely soft plush seat to himself. Whilst he felt that Bern's involvement was a mistake he would still follow his orders. With a customary snide remark. Par for the course and all. Just as he was about to gain some lovely shut eye, the mess room door slammed open. General Seliph had just entered, anger painted across her face.

"Isaac! Get your lilly white arse up this instant! The men are preparing to take flight. Once Sir Caligula returns we head to war. So get moving." She barked, dragging the man up by his white hair. Isaac smirked slightly and nodded.

"Aye. I've heard most of the men are the colour of my hair yeah? All afraid.. and with you as our leader.." He let the sentence trail away grinning widely. Seliph merely grit her teeth before storming out. Isaac chuckled as he clambered up. Quickly looking the mirror, he nodded.

"Dark brooding scarlet eyes. Check. Black and white armor, much like people's morals. Check. Scarf to tie it together? Check." He yawned again before strolling out of the barracks, meandering over to the many men preparing their Wyverns.

Caligula checked left and right before ducking into a small alley. Quickly moving to the end of the alley, he turned right slamming his fist down on a nearby iron door. A voice leaked through the bars.

"Who is it? Ya got business with me?" growled a guttural voice.

"Caligula. Open up the door. Now." He replied, tapping his foot. Within three seconds the door was open, and Caligula was soon inside. He quickly looked around the dingy bar, rolling his eyes. "Glad to see you've cleaned the place up. I don't wish to even know what that smell is. That is also a body in the left corner of the bar. Just what.. never mind. I won't be singing here anymore." He sighed.

"Why's dat eh? The punters love you and yer gig. Brings em in everytime. Helps you're a goddamn hero and all." grinned the stout man whom owned the bar.

"I have to quit Belph… I'm returning to duty." Cal replied.

"As a Wyvern Knight? Yer wounds gonna let you do dat job?"

"As a bard. I've been assigned as the general of the ground face."

"Well who woulda fought? My pal Caligula a general! Ye don't even have to fight. Ain't that a stroke of luck" drawled the man. "Can I get ya one last drink?" He asked watching the man. Cal sighed as he gave the man a smirk.

"Whiskey would be good." He said as he sat down at the bar. Belph gave him a wide grin as he quickly served it up.

"So. How's yer bird? Melody? Still sick?" Belph asked a hint of concern in his voice.

"Two years today. She won't wake up. At this point.. I've given up hope. Maybe she'll be awake when I get back from the war… if I make it back." Cal sighed.

"Ye sound like ya don't want to go to this war… rather be at home looking after Melody.. so why ya going? Is it the money? Old Belph has a little old nest egg hidden. Can get you some cash. Don't even have to pay me back," Belph offered.

"The Queen herself has requested me. As such I can hardly refuse.. and I appreciate the offer Belph. It's not money. I going to war because my nation demands it of me. Melody isn't stirring anytime soon.. so I have no reason to not go. If I can help in anyway…" He smiled.

"Yer gonna give them Sacaen boys a drubbing? Heard they're trying to get to Pherae.. don't trust those guys.." Belph mused. Cal's face tensed at the man's throw away remark, before downing his drink.

"I have to get going. Look after yourself Belph." He said in a drawn tone, before softly walking away. Belph nodded and watched his friend leave the bar.

"That geezer better bloody make it back…"

Isaac muttered slightly as he watched Seliph in action. The woman was extremely zealous when it came to work it seemed. A tad overzealous if you asked Isaac.

"Private! Tie your bootstraps and stop shaking! Bern will be the agent of peace, and you hardly look like an agent of anything! Sergeant! Your Wyvern is antsy. Calm him immediately before I feed you to him! If you can't control him, how do you plan to fight upon him?"

"By wishing on a star for luck.." Isaac murmured under his breath. Seliph seemed to not notice. By now the Wyvern Knights of Bern had come to grips with what lay ahead. They were ready to attempt to end the war before it could get going, their spirits bolstered by the whole agent of peace idea that was spreading. Many of them saw this war as Bern's chance to prove itself on the world stage. Ever since Zephiel had died the country had been treated as naught more than a footnote in history. Said footnote was one of suffering, a severe economic depression hitting Bern shortly after Liberation. Prejudice was still a major problem as well. When diplomatic meetings were held between all the major nations, Bern was constantly under scrutiny. Any hint of Princess Guinevere sending troops out of Bern was seen as war mongering, and a return to prior deeds. Yet through all of this Guinevere ensured the people never lashed out. Never rebelled. Crying shame if you asked Isaac. No one ever did.

"And your leader says she refuses to end the war until Pherae has fallen? There is no chance for compromise?" Guinevere asked the Ostian diplomat, disappointment and concern clouding her face.

"My lady Meri never said those words. Her exact words were that she would not halt the war until Pherae surrendered. With Felius at the helm that event seems unlikely. As such we must commit to the war." The diplomat shot back.

"Surely if you give Felius whatever he wants we can stop this? Ostia is rich, and I doubt any demands could tax your country." Guinevere shot right back.

"Felius wants Armads, and to see Ostia in ruin. We shan't ever let that happen. I'm sure Bern would understand.. your poor country trampled by foreign force" smiled the Ostian diplomat in a soft voice.

"I must ask you to leave then Sir. I will do you a courtesy. My Wyvern knight division is going to soon attack your supply line. Your siege of Pherae must halt. I tell you out of respect, and as I know you cannot return there soon enough to warn your leader. Good day." She shot back, a hint of fire in her tone as she began talking to one of her officials. The diplomats face was aghast as he ran from the palace. Guinevere sighed.

"Regrettable piece of diplomacy. The Ostians never learn.. stubborn fools."

"Quite so, Milady. General Caligula is just inspecting his men now. Soon our forces will be ready to march… are you sure your choice is sound?" asked one of the Queen's many advisors.

"I have no doubt. It is unfortunate, but we must spill blood to ensure no more is spilt."

Caligula hands danced nervously inside his pockets. Amassed in front of him was his unit. A mix of axe bearing fighters and dark magic wielding shamans. He certainly stuck out. He quickly adjusted his tired red hair before walking past each column. In his reports he would say all the men were satisfactory. In reality he could hardly tell. Foot soldiers had never been his forte, much preferring the air. Sighing he returned to the front of the unit, all of their faces watching him intently. He coughed, clearing his throat.

"Men. Today we march forward as the Bern Peacekeeping army. Elibe has decided to engulf itself in petty conflict once again, and we stand as the only nation able to halt this grievous course! Stand together brothers and we shall be unbeatable. History shall remember this day, the day that Bern became heroes! For Elibe!" He orated, coughing slightly as he finished. A tense silence held for a split second before the unit exploded in applause, cheering, extremely impressed by his speech. Caligula swiftly lead them forward. It was time to start their job.

"How long does it take a retired Bard to inspect his unit? We must be taking to the air!" Seliph scowled impatience the name of her game.

"How long does it take for a general to act like one?" Isaac shot right back. Just as Seliph began to reprimand him Caligula arrived.

"It takes three hours madam. I had business to attend to. Please do calm down. You're a general, conduct yourself as one." Caligula said sighing. "Commence the plan. My men will march behind on foot. Stop the Ostian supply line. Target the caravans, but do not harm the innocents. We must keep our involvement quiet, at least until the foot divisions can catch up." He stated, his prior experience coming into play. Seliph simply nodded as she climbed onto her Wyvern.

"To the air!" She yelled as the knights took off, heading towards Ostia.

"Time to march men! To Ostia, so we can end this vile war!" Cal barked as the unit broke into a brisk march. It was official. Bern had started their campaign.

"General Seliph. Isaac has fallen behind."

"What did you say private? Isaac has fallen behind?" She snapped back at him, tensions high.

"Yes M'am." The private quivered back. Seliph almost threw her hands in the air as she quickly fell back to his position. Isaac was quite enjoying the lazy flight, simply breathing in the air.

"Isaac. Pick the pace up. Now. Our mission is one of utmost importance." She commanded, before flying straight back to the front. Isaac rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Cmon on then boy. Guess we can't just relax.." Soon Isaac was back with the rest of the unit.

"We are about to arrive! Once we break through this cloudbank, the Ostian supply line will be visible. No civilians die." Ordered Seliph, before plunging into a dive through the cloud banks. Once the rest of the units were through, the Ostian line seemed to almost spring into existence. An efficient machine, carts coming and going protected by many armor knights. Isaac smirked as he dove. Hands would soon be dirty.


	4. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Storm  
Horace slowly walked through the bustling streets of Ostia. Civilians ablaze with war fever were dashing to and fro, hurriedly barking and yelling. Horace awarded himself a very small smile as he continued up towards Castle Ostia.  
"Is that General Horace? What's he doing here? I thought he was deployed in the war?" Exclaimed a confused civilian. Horace watched the man, before replying.  
"Good civilian of Ostia, Lady Meri is to give me my orders shortly. You don't think that you know better than her, do you?" Horace asked, no hint of joviality on his face. The civilian shook his head in a panic before darting back to his work. General Horace was not exactly known as the most social of men. Sharp, serious, and direct. Tall and bulky. Many of his foes swore that a brick wall was falling on them. They did not say much afterwards. Horace was an ace in the hole for Meri in this time of turmoil. Said man continued his steady walk towards the castle, nodding at the marketplace. Despite the populace believing that they knew what was best, they were all hard at work. Ostia was arguably hitting a golden age in economic terms. War has been known to bolster economies, after all. Horace arrived at a small gatehouse built rather recently - Extra layer of security set up to protect Meri. It had been Horace's idea.  
"General Horace. Miss Meri is waiting in the war room. Do you have your documentation?" Asked the man at the gate. Many generals would have been outraged at the idea of having to bring documents. Horace was not. Protocol was sacred to him. Carefully reaching into his tunic he folded out a bundle of papers. Sliding it to the man, he stood and waited, eventually being waved through. "You may pass Sir. Good luck." He said handing the papers back. With that Horace was heading to Meri.

"When is Horace due to be here? I could swear it was meant to be 5 minutes ago.." Meri frowned, rubbing her temples. A headache was threatening to push it's way into existence, and Meri could not be dealing with such a thing now. She had to be on top of her game at all time, especially with her plans. She wished to end the war fast - Smash through Pherae's weak defences at Worde and just continue pushing. Yet she was receiving reports that Bern had mobilized against Ostia, a mysterious Paladin had allied himself with Pherae, and that a huge wave of bandits were about to burst out from the Western Isles. Enough to drive a lesser woman insane, and to tell the truth, Meri was on the edge. Somehow that buffon Felius had managed to retreat his men to a southern fort in Worde. This was despite the fact that Illia's pegasus knight division had been present and the sheer numbers Ostia had. She had toyed with the idea that the Paladin had made it possible, but that was just absurd. One man? Hardly plausible.  
"Madam Meri, I have arrived. Apologies for the delay. My new security measures work perfectly." Horace stated, frowning slightly as he looked around the war room. Papers were scattered across the wooden floor alongside several empty bottles of wine. Cabinets laid astrew, their drawers left hanging open. Quills and empty ink pots adorned several chairs as Horace's frown grew. In the midst of the once proud room sat a round oak table. Spilt ink, scattered papers, wine stains, and at the centre of it all was a distinctly frazzled Meri. Her once proud blue eyes were worn and tired, her normally immaculate brown hair frayed, and her bright happy face now turned heavy. Horace merely sighed.  
"Lady Meri. It would be time to discuss my deployment, and further tactics. As well as the state of this room." He stated a slight hint of disappointment creaking into his voice. With his black eyes clouded with distaste, and his black hair matching his mood he lowered himself into a seat. It was time to talk.

"So, First things first. Pleasantries. How are you faring, Horace?" Meri asked in a strained tone watching the man.  
"I find that question irrelevant. Perhaps pleasantries are why this room is such a mess?" Horace replied looking around the room. He scowled slightly, noticing a pillow. It had been stuffed beneath a bookshelf in an attempt to be covert.  
"Regardless Horace, I do not. So I'll ask again. Ho-"  
"Madam Meri. You are sleeping in this room, Correct?" Horace questioned bluntly. Meri sighed slightly watching him before slamming her fist down on the table quite suddenly.  
"I find that question irrelevant! Hm, Horace? Why can't you just do the pleasantries for once? It's quite clear that I'm under a great deal of stress, and just want to let go slightly. But no. The almighty General Horace has to be all business!" Meri snapped back at him, breathing heavily.  
"That would be correct. You asked me here for business. Not idle chit-chat. If you are not capable of handling all this pressure, then perhaps Ostia best look for someone better suited to the job." He replied back coldy. Meri looked at him with a hint of astonishment before taking a deep breath.  
"Fine. You are to be deployed to our Worde supply line. Bern will soon be at the line, and they must be stopped at all costs. They cut that line, we can't continue the siege. Once you've repelled Bern, head to Worde." Meri said running her hands through her head. Horace watched her and nodded slightly.  
"Sound plan. How large is the Bernese force? What is the current situation in Worde?" He asked back, in a business like tone.  
"About 200 Wyvern riders. Guinevere is starting heavy. She wants to stop the entire war, Ostia and all. My diplomat attempted to reason with her but she turned him away. Probably due to her past. She won't want to see it repeated." Meri sighed. "Worde is… bad. We have the Pheraens on the ropes. Their line was falling, and the Santaruz division nearly lost their leader. Just as our men were about to finish them, the woman from Santaruz returned. With her was a paladin. He started to rampage through our lines, but Felius ordered a retreat… we pursued him, of course. He took down six pegasus knights by himself. They're holed up in a fort now. We commence the siege in three hours." Meri stated.  
"I will deal with those Wyvern Riders swiftly. Is there not the possibility to have Guinevere killed, or Removed? Force Bern back. As for Worde, there is little to do now. Force the siege, but I expect it to fail." Horace replied back with no trace of emotion.  
"Assassinated? Horace, that's… immoral! Assassination is what started this carnival. How can you suggest that in good conscience? Meri asked, astounded.  
"This is no mock war. This is a real one. If we want to minimize our casualties, then we must employ any possible tactic. Assassination is fair game at this point."  
"How can you still say that Horace? Lillina was assassinated, our Marquess! You can't suggest to do the same thing to another nation?" Meri asked incredulous. She shook her head slightly before frowning. "Why will the siege fail? We have them pinned. No escape. Regardless of the supply line issue, it should be easy enough." She questioned.  
"I am not there. Felius is a powerhouse when it comes to combat, and so is this Paladin it seems. The pegasus knight trio will not be enough to stop him. They also have a strategic advantage in the form of the fort. They can simply force us to attack, and then repel us." He sighed slightly before looking Meri dead in the eye. "There is also one nation everyone seems to be forgetting. Just where is Sacae in all of this, Meri? Have you considered that they might be making a move?"  
"No, there's no way for that to be possible. They must be engulfed in tribal feuds.. shit!" She scrambled out of her chair. "I need to alert the other generals.. get to work, Horace!" She yelled, quickly darting out the room. Horace chuckled slightly. Time to meet the famous Bernese Wyvern Riders.

-

Gabriel swore under his breath. The Worde supply line was in disarray, what with the bloody dinosaurs rampaging from above. It seemed that Bern had finally gotten involved. Ostian soldiers were pouring out of the tents in an attempt to drive back the Bernese men, but it wasn't looking good. The caravans were overturned, the civilians panicked and trapped inside. The camp itself was placed upon a hill in an attempt to see any attackers. That worked out well [Italics], Gabriel thought to himself. Quickly looking to his left, Gabriel saw an opening. No riders down that way, time to go! He quickly ducked under the conflict, scrambling to his left and sliding down the hill.  
"Easy enou-" He attempted to remark, suddenly feeling a lack of ground beneath him. With a loud thud he crashed into a small ditch - Another one of their many efforts to repel attackers. "For the love of..." He fumed under his breath. Trying to stand up he winced. It appeared he had a new friend, in the form of a broken leg. Unable to move, he sighed to himself. At least it was safe in the ditch. Above him raged the sound of a battle proper. Seemed the Ostian Knights had finally gotten themselves equipped. Wouldn't do them much good, regardless. Outnumbered and outmaneuvered, it would take nothing short of a miracle to save them.

Horace grumbled as he arrived at the supply line. It was chaos. Civilians scrambled to and fro as the Ostians did their best to repel the Bern forces. The Wyvern Knights had the advantage of mobility, and quite a few of them had brought hammers. Everything hinged on this defence, so with a loud bark Horace stepped forth.  
"Riders of Bern! I, General Horace of Ostia, offer you the chance to return home with your lives intact! If you choose to continue this attack, I will be left with no choice but to shatter your division. Is that understood!?" He bellowed towards the knights, stood in the middle of the hill. The Wyvern Knights hovered briefly, an eerie silence overtaking the battlefield, before a voice rang out.  
"Nay! The Wyvern Riders of Bern never surrender!" Retorted Seliph. "Men! Kill every Ostian! Civilians as well. Smash this supply line!" And with that remark Horace sighed and hefted his lance up, prepared to set to work. A small group of Wyvern riders, around six or seven, flew directly towards Horace in an attempt to remove the problem before it began. Beneath his white armor Horace smirked. The first rider that swept in was met with a lance between his eyes before being thrown over Horace's shoulder. The second one managed to land a blow but it clanged ineffectively against his armor. With a growl Horace rammed his shoulder into the hapless knight, sending him sprawling to the floor. Moving forward he smashed his foot down on the man's head, before stabbing his lance up through the Wyvern of the third rider. The rider managed to roll from the Wyvern before scrambling away. Horace contemplated chasing him, but was so rudely interrupted by a staggering blow. It seemed the 4th Knight had brought a hammer. Not that it made much difference when Horace lodged his lance in the man's throat.  
"Three elimanated, one fleeing. Two to go." He mumbled to himself. Around him was chaos still. The Ostian morale had risen since he arrived, but their odds of survival... hadn't. Strong as he was Horace was only one man. Out of the corner of his eye he saw yet another tent crackle up in flames, the Wyvern knights dousing them in oil, before dropping small matches. Horace could do little to stop them due to their mobility but he could break their spirit. His last two attackers flew at him together in an attempt to increase their chances of surviving. Horace took one step back before thrusting forward, his lance stabbing deep into the first riders neck. With a quick shake of the lance the body fell. By now the last attacker had gotten too close for a thrust to work, and so Horace raised his lance. He grunted slightly as he hefted his lance before slamming its wooden shaft down on the man's head. With a cry the knight fell to the ground, his head caved in. Six Wyvern riders had perished at the hands of one man.

Horace quickly turned to the camp.  
"Women and Children, Back to Ostia. You, Sergeant. Lead them home, now! Has Gabriel been seen, private?" Horace barked, turning to an Ostian private. Behind the two men the battle was still raging, the Wyvern Knights now attempting to secure prisoners.  
"In the ditch, sire. He fell." Stated the private sharply.  
"Tch. Leave him. He'll survive." Horace replied before turning back to the scene. Ostian Knights laid dead, their veins empty. The tents were charred remnants of their former selves, and dead wyverns littered the ground.  
"General Horace! I, General Seliph of Bern, will end thee!" Yelled Seliph, challenging him. Isaac cocked his eyebrow slightly as his unit erupted in yells.  
"Seliph, you can't win that fight!"  
"Milady, please think otherwise!"  
"You're digging your own grave!" were the many exclamations of her men.  
"Bah. Who cares? She thinks she can't take him on, let her try. Since when has she ever listened eh? This is a war. Listening doesn't really factor into this at all.." Isaac said with lackadaisical sigh. "Let her try. What's it matter anyway.."  
"Men, take as many prisoners as you can whilst I engage this fool!" ordered Seliph, before she charged towards Horace.

A guttural growl emanated from within Horace's armor as he watched the female Wyvern Lord charge in. Preparing a simple thrust he staggered further back, a ball of pain materialising in his stomach. Quickly examining his foe he saw that she had brought a hammer, and knew how to use it. With a roar he charged forth, a hefty thrust aimed at Seliph. Seliph said naught as she quickly flew up and over him, swinging hard at his back. Horace was sent staggering forward, struggling to keep his footing. She had this in the bag. Horace grumbled before spinning, with surprising grace, to face Seliph. His armor dented slightly he charged forward, stabbing his lance deep into the woman's wyvern - While it wore armour, it obviously wasn't enough. Soon the lance was buried inside, and it's life force was draining away. With a slight chuckle Horace withdrew the lance, the Wyvern felled. Seliph landed with a roll and remained on the offensive, bringing her hammer down with a smirk.  
"That my me-" She was interrupted by an explosion of pain in her shoulder, and sent sprawling, a wound from her shoulder pouring claret. Horace yanked his lance back, sighing.  
"Ostia, retreat!" He bellowed as he turned to scowl at the Bern Wyvern division. "When your nation burns, your people scream, I will relish in each life that I claim. I shall keep a tally. A tally of your FAILURE!" Horace boomed, a rare wave of anger washing over him. He slowly pulled back what remained of the Ostian force, the Wyvern riders lacking any desire to pursue. Indeed they were far more concerned about their wounded general. Well, Most of them were. Isaac showed very little concern for Seliph, instead hovering over a nearby ditch. With a slight yawn he dove towards the cowering thief housed inside.  
Gabriel had been trapped in the ditch for the entirety of the battle. His hopes had risen slightly when Horace had arrived, but was quickly dashed when he realised nobody had come to help him. They had sunk even further, a feat he had thought impossible, when he heard Horace order the retreat. His leg was still broken and no cleric or curate would be foolish enough to traverse the ditch to rescue some thief. Shakily he attempted to stand, grinding his teeth.  
"Almost… there.." He panted before falling again. "Damn!" He was going to have to find something to splint the leg. Quickly scanning the ditch for a stick or any sort of implement, Gabriel had to suppress laughter. Moving toward a bronze lance he chuckled, pulling out a knife. Squatting to the best of his ability, he began to cut the spearhead away from the lance. After a good two minutes of vigorous cutting, the spear head finally fell into the dirt. "Just need the rope now…" He quickly grabbed a slightly torn bundle of rope, apparently from one of the tents above. With a determined nod he quickly stood up straight, placing the wooden shaft against his leg and binding it. It was makeshift, but it would work. Now the question was how to get out of the ditch. Just as he was ruminating upon this pressing issue, a shrill screech pierced his ears. Soon he could no longer feel the ground beneath as he quickly jerked his head up. "Ah. The flying horse and cart it seems." He said stiffly.  
"That would seem to be the case." Isaac replied back slowly. "You are now a prisoner of Bern. Don't try to fight, or run, or do anything that could lead to your demise." Isaac drawled, hoisting the man on to the back of his Wyvern. Gabriel smirked inwardly. He had been sent to Bern as his mission, and it seemed he was getting an express ride. With a slight sigh Isaac dug his heels into his Wyvern, shooting into the sky. Seliph had been attended to, the bleeding halted, and was now leading the division home. She was on a Wyvern who had lost its rider, much as she had lost her Wyvern.

Horace grumbled as he slowly returned to the same Ostian streets he had walked down just two hours ago. The reaction to his arrival was a much different one. To see Horace is one thing, to see him clad in his armor another. No one spoke to him, focused on their jobs so as to avoid his wrath. Yet there was a murmur running through the crowd. Even the most short-sighted individual could see the dents in his armor, and the man's mood was quite clearly an unhappy one. No quite mustered the courage to ask however, much preferring to work their stalls. As for the general himself, his mood was black. Meri had quite clearly underestimated Bern, and sent him far too late. If he had been there from the start then the line would still be running. Horace soon reached the checkpoint again, removing his helmet.  
"Sir Horace. Your papers?" Asked the guard working the booth. A bundle of papers was hurriedly slapped in front of him as Horace waited. With a nod the guard waved Horace through. Horace strode through the castle gates, several guards rolling their eyes as they watched him enter.  
"Looks like Ol Horace is angry again…" sighed one of them.  
"When isn't he?" replied another.  
"When he's killing people." retorted a third. Horace briefly turned to look them over, yet the trio weren't cowed. With a shake of his head, Horace stepped in the war room.

"Welcome back General Horace. I'm disappointed in you. You've sent Gabriel to Bern, have you not?" Meri asked turning to view the entering man. The war room looked much better. Whilst the pillow was still there, the room had been tidied. The wine bottles were nowhere to be seen, the papers on the table had been stacked and ordered. Meri herself had also cleaned up, no more signs of stress visible on her face.  
"That would be correct. How he gets there however, is not the important thing."  
"And why exactly has he been sent to Bern? I vetoed your idea of killing Guinevere, so you'd best think your answer out." Meri said unusual steel in her voice.  
"For intel gathering purposes. If Madam Guinevere were to die it would have nothing to do with my operative." He replied, not missing a beat. Meri scowled as watched him.  
"I'll presume the supply line was a wash? Judging by the dents in your armor…" She said with a slight smirk.  
"If you had sent me there earlier it would not have been a wash. The Bern forces brought several hammers. They suffered heavy losses, but the damage was already dealt." Horace said stiffly.  
"Mhm. Well, Return to your quarters. With the supply line down Worde is a lost cause. No point in sending you on a fool's errand." Meri yawned absently.  
"And what about Sacae? Have you not looked into them?" Horace scowled folding his arms.  
"As I said. Worde is a lost cause. My sources in Etruria mention that Sacaen forces have been spotted on the outskirts. They are circling around so they can attack our offense at Worde from behind. You wouldn't make there in time. As such, we'll declare it a failure." She said matter of factly. Horace's face grew drawn as he stiffly nodded.  
"Send Pegasus Knights from Illia. One to Etruria to ensure the revolution is under control, and one to Worde to warn them of the Sacaen forces incoming." He replied, calmly exiting the room. Meri rolled her eyes before nodding. Stepping out to the courtyard she quickly pulled a young woman over.  
"You. Worde. Now. Tell them the Sacaens are coming." She barked orders before striding back to her war room. Only time would tell if Ostia could hold at Worde.

-

Derius sighed as he walked through the barracks courtyard. Snow fell softly, coating the many housing blocks. A slight smirk tinged at the side of his mouth as he watched a panicked Pegasus knight swooping in.  
"Sir Derius commander of Illia! You re-e-equested my presence?" She stuttered out.  
"That would be correct, Willow. I'm pulling you from the skirmish at Worde. You're hardly experienced enough for what is about to happen, and I have another task for you. We must go meet the man you'll be working with." Derius chuckled, smiling slightly at Willows nervousness. "Unlike you to be nervous my dear. Normally quite the ball of energy." He stated.  
"Sorry Sir. Meeting our leader in the flesh… it's an honor. You're a hero to all of us. Mostly Ostia." She said, a sly hint of snark leaking into her tone. With a cocked head she looked around as they moved away from the Pegasus Knight quarters. Those buildings were specially made for Illia's signature troop. A large high roofed building, with a stable directly attached for the Knight's mounts. Derius and Willow had met in the largest known Barracks in Illia. Unlike most of the barracks across Illia, which only housed Pegasus Knights, this barracks also housed a few paladins and armor knights.  
"Now, I must warn you, the man you will be working alongside might seem just a tad intolerable to you. He's all we have available on short notice to send to Etruria." Derius stated softly, a hint of a snicker in his voice.  
"Pray tell Sir, who might this man be? Is he suitable to be matched with a woman of my standing and talent?" Willow shot right back, nonplussed.  
"His name is Gus. Rather… how does one word this. Flirty. A rather flirty armor knight. Heavy believer in love at first sight." Derius mused ignoring Willow. The two had now arrived the armor knight division of the barracks. This particular division was located at the very back of the grounds, and not classed as vitally important. This was mostly down to the fact that Illia specialized elsewhere and armor knights were mostly a staple of Ostia. Derius however believed that they had a place in the Illian forces and as such had expanded their role. "His quarters are right here," Derius started pulling the door open. "Shall we?" Willow nodded as she quickly followed Derius inside.

The barracks was a mess. Food littered the floor alongside half eaten loaves of bread, empty beer bottles, and several scattered papers. Willow eyed Derius warily, frowning.  
"You're sure this is the barracks of Sir Gus? An Illian knight?" She inquired, looking around the room. Spotting a tall muscular man in the corner she dashed over. "Good sire, do you know whose room we are in? Myself and my commander are looking for a man called Gus." She inquired rapidly. The man blinked at her with brown eyes, quickly fixing his black hair. Standing he bowed.  
"That would be me. I am Gus of Illia! May I say madam, your hair ever so blue can compare to beauty true. Your green eyes like eme-" The man attempted to finish his statement to a bemused Willow, before Derius interrupted him.  
"This would be Gus. He will be your… partner in arms for your upcoming mission in Etruria. And no. Before you even try to ask, there is no one else. Talk to him, get to know him. I have to finalize some paperwork for your expedition. Have fun." Derius yawned slightly as he strolled away, leaving Willow lost for words. Gus smiled slightly at her before going to open his mouth.  
"Don't. Say. A. Word." Willow said in a strained voice. She wearily eyed a nearby seat, before slowly sitting down, folding her arms and legs.  
"My dear you know my name… but I don't know yours? Would you do me the favor of telling me?" Gus asked, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Willow frowned as she watched the man, rubbing her temples in despair.  
"Did I not just tell you to shut up? Foolish and deaf, then.." She sighed. Gus chuckled as he stood up, looking at the floor.  
"I must apologize for the mess. A friend of mine was here just a few hours ago. Bit of a drunkard. If I had known such a lovely lady was coming, I would have cleaned up." He stated. "So, again. Your name? I must know who my companion shall be." He asked in a persistent tone. Willow groaned before forcing a fake smile on her face.  
"Willow. Pegasus corps. Worked under Annette and Owar until I was called here to be with the [very best](Italics) soldier Illia can offer. Ever so glad to be here." She snapped back. Gus simply chuckled as he rummaged in a small drawer.  
"You have spirit. That is good. Many Illian women do not have that quality. I still love them for it, but spirit is the spice of life!" The man declared. Willow wanted to scream. This man was intolerable, absolutely unbearable. Were… were those… women's undergarments he was tossing out of the drawer? With the price still attached? Just as she was about to open her mouth to exclaim her distaste and disgust Gus jolted up laughing. "Here we go! I found it… just perfect. Madam Willow, a present for you." With a flourish an exquisite pendant was tossed into her lap. A small circular gold center with little silver flourishes, connected to a gold neck chain. Beautiful. Willow however was far from impressed.  
"Trying to buy my friendship or love with a pendant? Mhm, such a charmer. It's love, I'll admit it. Marry me? I mean it's clear you have a decent amount of clothing for me already," She said a dry look on her face. Gus cocked his head and grinned widely.  
"Where shall we have the ceremony? When? Before our quest? After? I must know my love, my sweet sweet Willow!" Gus rambled over excited. Willow's eyes widened for a brief second. This would be the man who would have her back in Etruria. God help her.

Derius chuckled to himself as he walked through the courtyard. Wonder how Willow was faring with Gus. Still, he had decided that two people would not be quite enough for the mission he intended them to undertake. He would have to introduce a third member to ensure success, and he had someone in mind. He yawned as he rested against the iron gate of the barracks. The man he had sent for was not housed here. Indeed he was not housed in any barracks. Derius looked up briefly, smiling. He had made that gate. His own hands. Derius has promoted an increase in barracks and a decrease in mercenaries. Many of the Illian people had railed against the idea, finding it sacrilegious and declaring Derius a traitor. Still, he had persevered and now Illia was much better prepared for war. Dissenters still existed, but they were noticeably quieter.  
"Sir Derius? You sent for me?" asked thw young male now stood in front of him.  
"Ah, Thomas! My, you've grown since I last saw you. How old are you now, lad?" Derius asked with a warm tone.  
"18. All grown up. Or that's what I'm told. I don't subscribe to that idea" Thomas said with a slight laugh.  
"Your hair is still a mess as ever. That brown unbrushed hair looks just the same as when you were a kid. Green eyed boy as well, hm? Get jealous recently?" Derius grinned widely.  
"With all due respect sir, bad jokes are my thing." Thomas shot back with a chuckle adjusting his backpack. A serious look descended over his face. "Time to discuss business then?" he asked wearily.  
"I'm afraid so. Let us walk." Derius said with a waving motion. "You've kept up with your magical training correct?" He asked softly.  
"Yes, Derius. That would be correct. Got the magic touch, you know. Focused on fire magic. Useful here in Illia." He noted an idle smirk on his face.  
"Well. I'm sending Gus and Willow to Etruria. The nation is falling apart, and whilst I couldn't care less Meri wants Etruria to be brought to our side. As such she has asked me to send a unit to talk to Nifren. Dangerous idea, but my hands are tied." He remarked tiredly.  
"Where do I factor into this? Am I to be sent with them?" Thomas asked straight to the point.  
"Acute as always. Yes, that is the case. Whilst I trust in Gus and Willow's ability, I'd like to have a backup plan. You might even be a leveling factor in the group. I'm sure that Gus has already declared his love, and his desires to marry Willow. Willow will be exasperated. We might have to hurry, stop her before she kills Gus." Derius jested slightly.  
"I'm doubtful at my ability to calm people down sire. You could say I fire them up. Channel the fire in their belly. Set their passions ablaze." Thomas joked as he clutched his fire tome. Derius merely rolled his eyes as he pointed to Gus's barracks.  
"In there. Introduce yourself. In ten minutes meet me out here. With both of them alive, please." Derius urged. With a chuckle Thomas walked inside to meet his companions.

Thomas's eyes widened slightly when he saw Gus and Willow not at each other's necks. Indeed the two seemed to be sat silently. Not jovial silence, a strained one, but silence nonetheless. Almost eerily the two turned their heads to look at him. It was clear that Willow was at wit's end, whilst Gus was just waiting to start his little shtick again.  
"Well. Glad to see that you two are both alive. I'm Thomas. I'll presume the male is Gus, and the angry female would be Willow." Thomas slowly drawled treading with extreme caution. Willow looked at him dryly not saying anything. Gus however stood up walking over to Thomas. He put his hand out for a shake nodding.  
"My friend Thomas, it is so good to see you again. You'll have to excuse my current company. She is rather upset about my.. advances. I'm not sure she grasps the concept of true love at first sight, but I shall not falter!" beamed Gus. Thomas shook the armor knights hand, calloused as it was, before nodding slowly.  
"Right. Willow. I believe this must be our first time meeting. I'm Thomas. Such a pleasure to meet you. I've heard of your corps. You were always my favorite." Thomas said slowly trying to defuse the situation. Willow watched the man slightly before opening her mouth.  
"Why, pray tell, would I be your favorite? I lack combat experience compared to Owar, I lack leadership compared to Annette, and my looks pale in comparison. So I'll presume you're attempting to be another Gus? Except instead of armor and a lance, you have a blue shirt and a fire tome. Exciting stuff." Willow drolly replied. Thomas went to retort, before shaking his head. 'Was it worth his life' would be the question running through his head whenever he was around Willow, it seemed.  
"Right. As I said. I'm Thomas. I'm assigned to go to Etruria with you two, and Derius is waiting outside. Let's go, shall we?" He didn't wait for an answer as he quickly left the room. Gus stood up, striding to his wardrobe. Easily lifting his his large set of armor, he was soon equipped.  
"Your armor is yellow? You're serious. Yellow armor. I mean you got it on quickly, but [yellow](Italics)?" Willow sniggered slightly as she walked outside, Gus quick on her heels.  
"Actually my sweet, it's golden armor. Like your heart, I'm sure." He exclaimed from inside the armor. Eventually the three were soon assembled in front of Derius. When he saw the ensemble he tensed up slightly. Inwardly he was regretting his decision. Outwardly he smiled.  
"Glad to see the three of you in one piece. Now, Your assignment in detail. Etruria is undergoing a severe civil uprising at current. Ostian sources have confirmed that the leader of the rebels is a swordmaster called Nifren. He believes that the general system in Etruria is flawed and harmful to the lower class. We don't care if this is true. Ostia wants Erturia on their side once the revolution is over. You three will go into Etruria, determine which side is winning, and then aid that side. Hopefully that can secure their loyalty. It will be a dangerous job. Hence why I selected whom I believe to be the cream of the crop. Any questions?" asked Derius. Thomas and Gus shook their heads, whilst Willow nodded.  
"Yeah. Why the hell am I paired with tin can Sain, and this firestarter? These are the cream of the crop? Have hurt your head recently, Derius?" She snapped, her patience long gone. Derius chuckled and shrugged.  
"Dismissed. Get to work." He said before strolling away.  
"Right, my friends. We must head out and gather supplies for our glorious quest. Thomas, you obtain the weapons. Myself and Willow shall go get the food." Gus smirked slyly. With that, the group was off.

Gus was giddy with glee. His plan to get alone with Willow had worked. Thomas was out obtaining any weapons the team might need - both Willow and Gus had requested a javelin, and Willow's pegasus was waiting outside of town. As such it was truly just him, and his sweet love.  
"This town is beautiful no? Small, quaint, lovely." Gus prattled in an attempt to kindle a conversation between him and Willow. Carrhae was anything but. It was arguably the second largest town in Illia, only eclipsed by the capital. The streets were always bustling, men and women going back and forth. Many shops were present selling all sorts of things from books, to wine, to pendants, to weapons, to pets. If you wanted it you could find it. One thing they did not sell however was love.  
"It's large, loud and obnoxious. Much like the man standing next to me." Willow shot back, smiling widely. Gus laughed slightly clapping.  
"And a sense of humour! My dear Willow, you are indeed the perfect woman. Now. We must obtain food for our quest. Follow me, my sweet." Gus was already on the move as he spoke, not waiting for an answer. Willow, bristling with anger, stormed after him. Gus quickly ducked into a small shop, entering into conversation.  
"For an armor knight you like to run off. What the hell is this store?" Willow snapped her anger washing over her. Gus ignored her, involved in hushed barter with the man at the counter. With a smile and a nod Gus was admitted into a back room. Willow strode after him, but the man from the counter stepped in front of her.  
"Just who are yer, missy? Only Gus and his friends can go through." said the owner of the store. Willow sighed as she rubbed her head again, a headache brewing. She then promptly stepped back. Her and Gus were [not](Italics) friends. After about five minutes, Gus emerged from the storeroom with three burlap sacks slung over his shoulder. In his left hand was a pegasus saddle. Nodding to the shopkeeper, he passed him a stack of coins.  
"Keep this among us, my friend." He said with a small nod, and tossed the saddle to Willow. The young woman caught it, before cocking her head quizzically. "Your saddle is frayed. I thought you could do with a new one. It's basic but it should do." Gus explained. Willow smiled slightly as she nodded.  
"Well. Thank you, Gus." She stated plainly. Gus smirked as the two left the store, back out on the streets. Gus smiled warmly under his helmet as he slowly walked.  
"Let us find our good friend Thomas. Hopefully he has our equipment by now." Gus yawned.

"Yes, alright. Here's the gold." Thomas quickly placed it on the counter, the woman working the store slowly counting it. She nodded before walking to the back of the shop, passing Thomas two javelins. With a grunt he thanked her, and staggered out of the store. Of course Gus had sent him to go get the weapons. It made sense. As a mage Thomas had the frame to carry them. Well, that part was true. Many people had assumed he was a mercenary before he explained. But still. The armor knight should have carried the weapons. In reality he knew that Gus just wanted to be with the Pegasus Knight. Whilst she may have been pretty, their job was meant to come first. Muttering under his breath he almost collided with Gus.  
"Ah, Thomas. Good to see you. Here, allow me to carry those." Gus nodded as he effortlessly hefted the javelins. "You take the food." He added, quickly passing the sacks to Thomas. Thomas's eyes widened slightly as he saw the amount of food that Gus had procured. Choosing not to start anything Thomas smiled.  
"Well, who else would I be? If I wore a skirt though, you might fall in love with me." He joked slightly. Any joy he got from the statement was quickly killed by Willow's withering glare.  
"Such wit. You should write stories. You've got a talent with words." She sung in a singsong tone, with a current of caustic dislike running through it. Gus chuckled slightly as he watched Willow interact with Thomas. It warmed the cockles of his heart.  
"Right. Let us move back to the gate of the city. Willow's pegasus is tethered there." Gus remarked. The group nodded, and followed behind. Their objective was simple. Get involved with the civil war and ensure Etruria's allegiance.  
"Let us all return safely. Especially you, my dear Willow." stated Gus. Willow rolled her eyes as she saddled her pegasus.  
"Well. I'd rather be alive then dead. So yes. Let's." She said hovering above the other two.  
"Let's be off, then." Barked Thomas, marking the start of the long journey to Etruria. The three of them were ready, heads held high. Time to tip the scales.

-

Pelagius stretched as he awoke from his slumber. It seemed that the rest of the Pheraen forces were still asleep. Slowly walking over to Emilia, he squatted and then nodded.  
"My Lady slumbers. She will need her rest for the battle to come." He mumbled to himself, before slowly making his way to the prisoner wing. Asara, as usual, was wide awake. She eyed Pelagius warily, scowling at him.  
"What do you want, Pheraen scum? You'll not find it here." She barked, anger coating her words. Pelagius merely chuckled, drawing up a seat and lowering himself into it with a smile.  
"I am no Pheraen. I don't even come from Elibe. So I'd much prefer if you call me a gallant. A Dashing knight!" He drawled watching the woman. Asara's face tensed.  
"You ally yourself with the Pheraens. They are scum who believe we murdered their leader. Yet when Meri attempted to explain they responded with war! They try to defend their actions, but they can't!" She roared, incensed. Pelagius simply sighed, leaning back in his seat.  
"I do not ally myself with Pherae. I ally myself with my lady. If that I means I fight for Pherae, than so be it." Pelagius paused briefly. "My dear Asara, who are you to judge? Do you believe being holy gives you the right? That being Ostian gives it to you?"  
"I can judge them for one reason. They initiated this war! Plunged Elibe into chaos, and condemned thousands to die. That is why I judge." She snapped back, her face rather red.  
"Do you have proof that Ostia was blameless in Roy's death? Nay, I doubt so. It could be the case, but you don't have certain proof. You are also wrong. Felius did not ignore negotiations. He simply wanted a hefty sum from Ostia. Whilst it may have been ignorant of him to ask for such a sum, war could have been avoided. And you my dear are an example of Pherae's good heart." Pel yawned slightly finishing his sentence.  
"What? I am prisoner, a hostage! How does that make Pherae good people?" She retorted confused.  
"You're alive, no? Someone brings you food and water three times a day. You are given ample space to move, air to breathe. Ostia held several Pheraens hostage. When Felius offered you in return, your Ostian field commander refused. He had the hostages throats slit. Most countries would have had you killed in my experience. Yet you breathe." Pelagius stood up. "You may want to think on that, my dear." With that closing remark, Pelagius returned to the main wing of the fort. 'Twas time to rouse the troops.

-  
The Ostian line at Worde was starting to awaken and resume their assault. Morale was high, as Pherae was now trapped within the fort. Whilst the strange paladin had torn through their line the other day, they were now quite prepared for him. Felius was wounded and had nowhere to run. It was sure to be a glorious victory.  
"Owar, Let's go. We have work to do today." remarked one young woman, nudging another who was curled up, obviously asleep.  
"Nrg. All right, Annette, I'm getting up" grumbled the woman known as Owar. She stood up quickly, adjusting her long black hair. Blinking she slowly opened her green eyes. In front of her stood Annette - her battle commander.  
"Where's your sister gone, Annette? Willow was here the other day..." asked Owar, who was standing up and wiping the sleep out of her eyes.  
"She's been sent to Etruria. Dealing with the revolution. Better for her. Now get up." Barked Annette turning to address her unit. Owar set about preparing her gear and rousing her Pegasus. She was ready for battle. It was to be an exciting one, and an easy one at that. The intelligence that was doing the rounds implied that Pherae had no archers. As such they had free reign. Annette however was getting grief from the Ostian men whom had little respect for pegasus knights.  
"Ey Annette love, nice blue hair and eyes. Like water, right? Everyone can drink you." hollered one of the men. Annette nodded and smiled as she walked over to the man and slammed her knee between his legs.  
"Mhm, Yes. You're like glass, after all. Easy to break." She laughed warmly before turning back to her unit.  
"This fight should be easy. Pherae has no archers, so we have free reign. Avoid the Paladin and Felius. Those two will slaughter you. Needle the Pheraen line. Once we force them inside we'll have little impact. Do not let anyone out of the fort. Kill any and all stragglers." Annette let out a small giggle before composing herself. "Understood?" Her unit nodded, their orders received. Owar smiled as she stood behind Annette.  
"Another lovely speech. Rousing and inspirational." She smirked snark seeping into her words. Annette rolled her eyes slightly before shoving Owar.  
"To your post, soldier. And if you see that Paladin, he's mine. You can have anyone else, but I want that old man's head on a pike. He protected that Emilia bitch. Her death would have shattered Pherae's resolve." She mused. Owar faked a mock salute as she mounted her Pegasus. The majority of the fliers were now ready for the fight, but forced to wait for the armor knights to prepare. After a good thirty minutes they were ready. Ostia was preparing to end the war right now.

In the time between Ostia arriving at the fort Pherae had taken many efforts to fortify their location. The proud blue fort that sat in the middle of the plains now had makeshift trenches. Hastily made fences were in place, and wooden stakes had been stabbed into the ground. The plain had no hills, the fort the major land mark. The grass softly blown by the wind, flowers yearning for water, soft shade provided by oak trees. Soon the grass would be blown away, the flowers watered with blood and the soft shade the scene of brutal fighting. Pherae had it's back to the wall and no way out. They would fight to the very end, never faltering. Ostia very much had it's back to the wall as well, and if they did not win here they would surely die on the retreat. Their supply line was down and as such this fight was do or die. With the Ostia army slowly arriving, flanked by a Pegasus knight division, the scene was set for the battle to end all battles.

Annette let out a very small contained giggle as she looked the fort over. She was excited for this, and ready to show the Pheraens who was really in charge. To kill that Emilia bitch, and teach them some respect.  
"Annette? Your eyes are glazed over again.. there an attractive male you see? Is it that Paladin? Is that why you wanted me to leave him for you?" Owar asked with a slight smirk. Annette shook her head, scowling at Owar.  
"Shut up. I'm just ready to end this war here and now. This is going to be extremely easy." She grinned. "I mean just look at their defences. Really top notch." She rolled her eyes. "That Paladin's head will be on my pike." She replied nonchalantly. Owar smiled.  
"Whatever you say, boss." She laughed. Annette was now just waiting on the Ostian field commander to give the word. While she was waiting, she noticed a very panicked Pegasus rider flying in. With a frown on her face she stopped the flyer.  
"You. What's the matter?" Annette asked sharply.  
"Sacae! Sacae is about to attack from behind, you need to rush the fort now!" yelped the girl. Annette's face drew tense and worried.  
"You're sure?" She barked back quickly.  
"Yes ma'am!". Annette quickly turned to Owar.  
"Get the field commander to deploy the troops. Now! Sacae is hot on our heels." Annette ordered her subordinate before dashing to her pegasus. In one smooth movement she mounted her Pegasus and slammed her leg into it's side. Owar was soon by her side.  
"The commander has mobilized. We're launching the attack now!" She yelled. With that Annette and Owar were aerial. The time was nigh.

"Left flank. Needle it, force it center. Owar, force the right flank to the center! Execute, and send these fools to an early grave!" Annette barked, orders streaming from her mouth. Despite the threat of imminent death from a soon to arrive Sacaen force, she was still loving every second of the battle. With a quick swoop downward she speared a soldier, immediately flying high into the sky. With a slight giggle she shook him off her lance, sending him plummeting to the ground. With a kick of her leg her pegasus swooped down once more, as she scanned the battlefield. The Phereans were doing a surprisingly good job of holding. This seemed to be mostly down to Felius. His mere presence drove his men to perform better, and he was no slouch in combat. Many Ostian commanders secretly worried, in private of course, that Felius was capable of holding his own against Horace. Annette cared not for Felius. She could't see any sign of the White Paladin that had sallied to Emilia's aid the other day yet. They both had to die, and Annette would be the one to deliver the final blows. All of these thoughts ran through her head, as she swooped to the left and speared a Pheraen cavalier through his back. He screamed before falling to the dirt, trampled by his now riderless horse. With a giddy little smile plastered on her face she swept behind several Pheraen men cackling. "Death has wings!" She yelled as the men turned. About five of them by Annette's count. Two of them fell to quick sharp stabs to their throat. Just as she prepared to turn on the other three they bolted, fleeing to the safety of the fort. All according to plan then. If Sacae was coming then Ostia needed to drag the fight inside so as to hamper the Nomads and their mounts.  
"Men of Pherae! Do not falter! We shall destroy these Ostian scum and clip the Illian wings! Show these curs just how weak they are!" roared Felius, as Annette scowled. That man was insufferable, his voice rather grating. If she was not intent on killing Emilia - revenge for that cut on her face - then she would have gone for him. With a shake of her head, she continued her bloody job.

Owar frowned slightly as she ducked under a tossed javelin. Despite Annette's criticism the Pherans makeshift defences had been doing quite a bit of harm to the Ostian foot soldiers. Several cavaliers would group up behind a knight before shoving him onto the wooden stakes. The grim results of this could be seen throughout the field, several knights impaled on the bloodstained stakes. The trenches were also being put to ample use. Pherae had sent several lance users down to hide within. Again the cavaliers would push otherwise dangerous individuals, mages in this case, into the trenches where several lances would soon end their lives. Owar's reaction was one of disgust and respect. It was clear that Pherae was willing to do anything to ensure their survival. The pegasus knight grumbled as she saw several soldiers standing on the upper balcony of the fort. These men were safely hurling javelins down upon the Ostian line. Whilst it was ineffective at best, it was still aggravating the line. Owar quickly rammed her pegasus into the side of one of the men. Whilst he was sprawling on the ground, his head soon crushed by the hooves of her Pegasus, Owar hefted his javelin. With a quick flick of her wrist the javelin lodged itself firmly in the heart of one of the soldiers. The other two balked at the idea of fighting what looked to be a demon on wings and fled inside the fort. Owar grinned slightly, before descending back to the battlefield. Pherae was slowly - but surely - crumbling.

"Owar. Report!" Yelled Annette as she flew past her subordinate.  
"No sign of the Paladin. Men on the balcony forced back inside. No sign of Sacae. You're still a control freak. Felius is holding his line." Shot back Owar, as she stabbed down another Pheraen Halberdier.  
"Good. Target Felius's line, but stay away from the man himself!" Commanded Annette. With a slight nod the two pegasus knights flew in behind Felius's line, preparing to destroy it. Just as they were about to set to work a booming voice rang out of the fort.  
"Nay you flying devils, nay I say! As does my horse! The knight code insists that you face your opponent head on! I shall not tolerate such vile cowardice and trickery! Turn and face I, Sir Pelagius! Defender of honor, virtue and Emilia!" bellowed Pelagius as he rode out of the fort. Annette bit her lip before cackling excitedly.  
"Owar, harrass Felius. This one is mine." She barked. Owar merely rolled her eyes as she flew towards Felius and his line, preparing to knock several holes in it. Annette turned to Pelagius, her eyes filled with a homicidal glee. Her hand tightened around her lance as she watched him.  
"So. You're the Paladin that turned the tides the other day, then? Saved that little wench Emilia… I can't wait to end your life~" Annette beamed with glee. Pelagius had listened along with docile bemusement until Emilia's character was called into question. A look of tranquil fury blossomed on his wrinkled face.  
"My dear, whoever you might be. My Lady Emilia is no wench. To say so is the highest insult. As her knight and protector I will not stand for this slander! Your life is now forfeit!" he replied, his rage evident. Annette let out another laugh before flying straight towards him, lance aimed squarely for his heart. A lesser man might have panicked. But Pel merely watched the woman flying towards him. When she was almost within killing distance he twisted to the side and raised his shield, swinging it square into the Pegasus Knight's face. Annette's face exploded into waves of pain as she was sent sprawling off her mount. With a groan she pulled herself to her feet, just as horse hooves slammed into her stomatch. Pelagius rose his lance sighing. "Disappointing. For one filled with such bravado, you fail. Like all dastards!" he remarked as his lance stabbed down. Annette barely rolled away, quickly hauling herself up and thrusting her lance forward. It slammed into Pel's thick white armor, staggering him slightly as she rushed back to her mount. Back in the air she circled Pelagius, suddenly stabbing her lance into his shoulder. The knight tried to dodge, but old age had worn down his reactions slightly, and the lance found it's target. As she removed her lance Pelagius's hand latched onto it and he threw Annette over his shoulder. With a slight grunt, he prepared his lance to end her life. Just as the veteran knight was about to do the deed, he found himself slammed from his saddle.  
"Commander! Up, now!" Barked Owar as she quickly lifted Annette up. Annette frowned at Owar, shaking her head.  
"Do not interfere!" She roared as Pel took the chance to clamber back onto Abaccus. Spinning his lance he chuckled slightly.  
"My my. The brave commander saved by her subordinate. And she criticizes instead of complimenting. Tut tut, my dear." commented the knight dryly as he eyed both the women. Owar sighed as she went back to continue her assualt on Felius's line. With a smirk plastered on her face, Annette charged back in. As did Pelagius.

Owar was fuming. She had saved Annette, and gotten scolded for it. Just what exactly was her problem? Shaking her head she quickly speared a mage, continuing her work. Felius had still not cottoned on, being too distracted by the frontal assault. With a hum Owar kept going, she hummed whilst she worked. She was soon startled by a roar.  
"Men of Pherae! Retreat into the fort, our front line is broken!" Bellowed Felius as he quickly turned. Owar soared out of his view as she turned her gaze to her commander. With Pelagius's retreat, Annette flew back up to Owar.  
"Good. We can still end this before Sacae arrives." Owar stated, as Annette merely nodded. Owar sighed. "Distracted?" She asked. Annette didn't answer, too busy the Ostian line flood into the fort.  
"We'll have to wait out here. We can't fight inside. Mobility will be too hindered." sighed Annette. Owar nodded before flying up high. Mostly to scout for the incoming Sacaens, but also to be away from Annette. It was clear to see that she was obsessed again. Soon Annette was back by Owar's side, though, a sheepish smile on her face.  
"I belive I should apologize for what I said earlier. I.. appreciate you allowing my life to continue." muttered Annette. Owar grinned slightly before nodding. The two friends were away.

Pelagius grunted as he rode Abaccus through the fort. Most normal horses would have struggled with the environment, but it seemed Abaccus was an old hand. A few odd looks were sent his way as he quickly dismounted.  
"Lady Emilia, it is time to go! The Ostians have entered the fort, and you are in no state to fight!" yelled Pelagius. Emilia, sat in a simple wooden chair, shook her head softly.  
"Though I may not be able to fight, Pelagius, I can't leave these men behind. That would be an act of cowardice. I'm sure a knight like you would understand." She stated softly. Pelagius had a desperate look in his eyes before weakly nodding.  
"Then I must prevent them from reaching you! That will be difficult, but a knight can do anything for his lady!" were the bravado filled words that burst forth from the elderly knight's mouth. Clambering back on Abaccus, he quickly rode to the holding cells. He looked over Asara, apparently deep in thought. Asara looked over Pel, deeply confused.  
"Pray tell, Sir Knight, what are you thinking?" She asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.  
"Do I release you and entrust my lady to your care? Nay, I doubt I can trust you. Indeed that is sad. Your men have stormed the fort." stated Pel. The sounds of fighting near the entrance of the fort confirmed Pelagius's statement. Asara smiled widely.  
"I hope your lady dies screaming, Sir Knight. Punishment for your sins." She remarked snidely. Pelagius merely shrugged as he walked over to the cell, fiddling with his belt. Carefully placing a small key into the iron lock he opened the cell door. Asara cocked her head, as Pelagius dragged her to a standing position.  
"You're still bound. Good. With no tome you can't do any harm to my lady. As such I must entrust you to her, so as to prevent your rescue." with a grunt he lifted her onto Abaccus. "To Emilia, my steed." He said, tapping the horses flank.  
"What are you do-" Asara's words were cut short due to Abaccus speeding off. Grim faced, Pelagius quickly picked up an axe from the ground, his lance still bound to Abaccus's side.  
"Time to set to work. Perhaps for the last time." He remarked, before charging towards the sounds of the battle.

Worde would go down in history as the day Pherae almost failed. Despite Pelagius returning to the fray, now on foot, the line was being pushed further and further back. First they fell from the entrance to the main hall, from the main hall to the left wing, and now the left wing was starting to be pushed back. Things looked desperate, yet Felius's refused to let spirits fall.  
"Men! Die a glorious death. For everyone one of us dead, take three Ostians with you! Make them rue the day they clashed with Pherae!" bellowed the man, his axe slaughtering several Ostians with each swing. Pelagius, despite his age, was still fighting as well - yet unlike Felius his age was starting to hinder him. Yet his mere presence also bolstered the morale. Even though death was staring them in the face, the Pherans were in high spirits. Yet there was little hope. Even if they could repel the attacking force a division of Illian Pegasus Knights were waiting outside to cut off any avenue of escape. It was time to make a glorious last stand.  
"Pelagius, I must thank you for your contributions. I apologize for you having to die alongside us, but know you are a hero!" Declared Felius.  
"Nay. I am not a hero. I am merely a traveling knight, slaying evil and bringing virtue and honor to the land. To die for such a cause would not bother me. You are a true hero to your men, Felius. Hold your head high!" replied the Paladin, his face covered in sweat. Exertation showed on his body as the Ostians prepared for their last push. It seemed things were coming to an end.

"Field commander! We have a problem!" exclaimed a panicked Ostian soldier. The field commander turned his head, indicating that the man should go on. The soldier went to continue his sentence but collapsed to his knees, and the commander turned to check what had happened. An arrow, bearing the mark of Sacae, was the answer. Lodged deep in the man's throat was the sign of turning tables. The commander swore under his breath.  
"Retreat! Get outside!" He roared as they quickly turned to try and flee. The tired Pheraen forces looked confused as Felius laughed warmly.  
"It seems our allies from Sacae have finally arrived, just in time it seems." panted Felius. When the Ostian forces emerged outside it was evident that the Pegasus Knights had long since fled. No message from them it seemed. Amassed in front of the forces stood a huge Sacaen force, bows drawn.  
"On my order. Three. Two. One. Fire!" Commanded a Sacaen man. With a drop of his hand a volley of arrows rained down upon the Ostian forces. Brutality at it's most refined. Ostians began to die in droves, arrows in their gullets, eyes, heads. Myrmidons, the foot soldiers of Sacae, moved in, tearing apart any stragglers. The entire Ostian force wiped out in such a few short moments. A few survivors would exist as prisoners, but the majority had been wiped out. Just. Like. That.

Felius emerged from the fort, covered in cuts and bruises, with joyous applause.  
"Sacae.. the heroes of the hour." He said, glee in his voice as he shook the hand of the Sacaen leader.  
"Apologies for the delay, Felius. I was forced to deal with tribal concerns, and had to travel through Etruria." replied the woman.  
"It is no problem, Merifold. I knew you would arrive in time. It was easy enough for us to hold the line." He replied with a cocky grin. Merifold merely rolled her eyes before nodding.  
"Indeed. We must prepare to fight Ostia. There is no time for extravagant talks now, or preparations. This battle is complete. Let us move to the fort and enter our talks there." stated Clover. With that simple sentence Sacae had entered the war. And Elibe was collapsing further into chaos.


	5. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Insidious

"Find Samuel. We can't have him running around Aquleia, it's too dangerous. He can't even defend himself. I want him to be the top priority." commanded Nifren, rubbing his temples.

"But- Commander Nifren, the remaining Generals have been sighted preparing their forces. Don't we need to do the same? Else they could destroy our cause right here and now." remarked a concerned monk.

"Find Samuel now, damn it! If I wished to prepare my forces, I'd have told you so. I want my friend found and brought back safely, do you understand me" exploded Nifren, his hand shooting to his sword. With a silent nod the monk bolted from the bar, fearing for his life. With a sigh Nifren leant back in his chair, wearily examining his surroundings. The Bear pack bar, housed in Aquleia - the capital of Etruria. It was no longer in use by the public, and had been repurposed as the rebel command hub. A lopsided bear hung from the front of the building, coated in rust and wear. Inconspicuous and abandoned, Nifren had seen the building as the perfect location. Those upper class generals would never think to check the dirty dens of the common people, which allowed the revolution to continue unhindered. Nifren's quarters were housed in the storage room at the back of the bar. Around him laid empty beer kegs, shattered wine bottles, old receipts, and a few splatters of blood. Somewhat fitting. A revolution for the common man in the home of common men.

"Nifren, We need to talk." Stated a soft female voice from just outside the door.

"Sif? Come in." Nifren replied as he darted over to the door, yanking it open. "Have you heard word about Samuel? Has he been located?" He asked rapidly.

"Samuel? He's missing? I assumed he was still here with you." Sif replied, a her voice lacking understanding.

"Never you mind, then. What is it you need to tell me?" Nefren asked tightly.

"The Etrurian Generals have been sighted in the Northen Eastern ruins. They are attempting to rescue the survivors. If we were to covertly attack, and then rescue the survivors we could use it to our advantage." Sif replied softly.

"The survivors… they could die if we interfere, correct? The answer to that is of course yes, but get your unit. We need any momentum we can get… so push them back fast. Minimize casualties." Nifren ordered, head in his hands.

"Will do, Nif. Hey, it'll be fine. I promise. We'll find him, ok? Your friend will be brought back safely." She said, moving herself into a position to comfort Nifren. He slowly curled her short dark blonde hair around his finger, and their eyes locked. With a light chuckle he ran his other hand through his sharp white hair, nodding.

"Just get yourself back safely. My fiance and second in command can't die. Ever. I'll find Samuel myself." He remarked as he sprang up. Sif nodded, not wasting any time striding out of the bar. Nifren rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and nodded. Slowly squatting he snatched up his Wo-Dao. With a grim look on his face, Nifren stepped out into the street.

Samuel panted as he ducked into the smoldering remains of what had appeared to be a kitchen. Just outside the ruins galloped some royal Etrurian knights, the remnants of the Knight General's forces. If they were to find him he would most certainly be executed for his involvement with Nifren. Nifren… his best friend. Former best friend. What he had done was just inexcusable, going against the generals? Starting a war? How could he bear to do that, to commit such a heinous crime. Didn't matter. Samuel just had to get out of Etruria. Maybe head to the Western Isles, the church held a lot of power there. St. Elmine would forgive him so long as he didn't continue to work for Nifren. He was sure of it.

"Hey! Who are you? Hm.. I've never seen you before. Well, I'm Candace! You're in the ruins of my Kitchen… for some reason? I don't think that's a safe place for a priest." exclaimed a young woman who had rather suddenly appeared. Samuel blinked briefly, before quickly smiling. In front of him stood a young woman, about 17 years old, with long green hair, and piercing red eyes. Candace? He had heard that name somewhere.

"Candace? I apologize for ending up in your kitchen, or what's left of it." Samuel apologized as he adjusted his white robes - a hint of red spiraled it's way through their design - and he quickly fixed his hair.

"Hm? No, no, You don't need to apologize. It was hardly your fault. It was those revolutionaries, they burnt my house down. A man of the cloth like you would hardly do such a thing." She replied sweetly. Samuel tensed up slightly as he nodded.

"Nay, I would not burn a house. I much prefer to live in them." He replied back quickly, before taking her hand. "Would you do me a favor my dear?" Candace looked at the man, confusion on her face as she nodded slowly.

"Yes…?" She said in a confused tone.

"Leave Etruria with me. The revolution will engulf this city in flames. It's not safe for anyone now." He remarked. Candace shook her head slightly, holding back a giggle.

"My dear Samuel, I know how we can resolve this whole thing. I will merely talk to the leader of the revolution, and he will politely stop. He must see this is torture for the city, no?" She giggled in a upbeat tone. Samuel looked at her with a slight hint of disbelief, before beginning to speak.

"Nifren is hardly the man to listen to you. He has his own moral beliefs, and this revolution is his crusade. He will not stop until the General system is abolished, and they lay dead in the ground. I must apologize for my bluntness, but he will not listen, rather he will kill you." Samuel stated, in an attempt to dissuade her. Candace shook her head.

"Nay. I know where he houses himself. The Bear pack bar. As such I will travel across the city to stop him. An unfailable plan." She barked, unfaltering. With a sigh Samuel smiled.

"Fine. I can't change your mind, so I will go with you. You would be a Valkyrie, correct? Hence the tome. I am Samuel, a humble priest. I cannot fight but this staff, I can heal the wounded. Take me with you, and you'll be very glad you did." He stated with a goofy grin. With a slight laugh Candace nodded, linking arms with him.

"To glory!" She exclaimed, and with that they were off.

"Alexes. Ensure our task force is kept in good health. The rebels are coming to halt our attempts to rescue these survivors. Understood?" commanded the Etrurian commander.

"Yes Sir. Understood. Please take caution. Regardless of Nifren getting involved, we need to get the survivors out first." Alexes replied, concern painted across her face. The commander sighed.

"They are not sending Nifren. The report we have indicates that his fiance, Sif, is coming. She is far more dangerous." sighed the strained commander. "Regardless. I want you and a small division of men to start picking them out of the ruins." He ordered.

"Yes sir. Do you wish for me to use my st-" Alexes conversation was cut short as what seemed to be hoofbeats from the north could be heard.

"There! The ruins have been sighted. Stop these villains from touching the citizens of Etruia. They cared not before, yet they care now?" boomed Sif's voice. "Kill anyone armed, but take clerics prisoner. Move!" A large horse was now clearly in sight as Sif and a small regiment of Nifren's arrived. The Etrurian general frowned.

"Men, To arms! Alexes, get those people to safety now!" He roared as he prepared his silver axe. "We'll make them pay!" He barked. Alexes quickly kicked her pony in the side, galloping over to the survivors, her short red hair blowing ever so slightly in the wind. With a quick cursory glance, her green eyes absorbing the situation, she frowned. The survivors were in a bad shape. They needed not only healing but also food and water. Their feeble weak eyes locked onto Alexes, as she nodded.

"I'll do my best. Please, I'll be right with you." She said as she quickly set to work, her staff glowing bright.

"Damn! Men, hold the line!" pleaded the commander, the situation grim. Nifren's foot division were ruthless, their spears easily breaking the cavalry down. The sword bearing individuals were busy tearing through those in armor, due to the many armor slayers that Nifren had acquired. There was also the problem of Sif. Wielding a light brand and heavy green armor, she was unstoppable. She was sending men to their graves at an impressive pace, and she showed no signs of slowing down.

"Imprison the clerics and troubadours! We will have use for them!" She yelled to her soldiers, as the Etrurian defense crumbled.

"There you go, sir. All patched up. Madam, please come here." Alexes asked softly as she smiled. Her commander must have been doing an excellent job. Indeed she had almost helped all the survivors. Just as she was about to help a middle aged woman, whom was sporting a nasty gash across her forehead, she tensed up. Something was off.

"Don't shoot. Please, these people need my help." She pleaded to the individual who had a bow aimed at her neck.

"Pledge allegiance to Nifren's rebellion. Then you will be allowed to live." Sif stated coldly.

"Nifren? He is the one who caused this, with his foolish ideals." Alexes replied in an attempt to restrain herself.

"His foolish ideals? To want to abolish a system in which people don't choose their leader? Nay, the generals caused this. Instead of understanding they refused and fought back. Heal those people. Then you come with us." Sif shot back curtly. Alexes nodded tensely as she finished up her healing, a fake smile plastered on her face.

"If you would all just follow the armored lady on the horse, she'll take you home." She beamed in a fake cheery tone. The civilians, almost too tired to care, nodded and slowly lined up behind Sif. Sif awarded herself a small smile. It had been easy enough, and this would hopefully take the stress off Nifren. With a curt nod she slowly kicked her horse into a trot, leading the civilians through the quiet streets. Alexes slowly rode up next to Sif, a frown plastered on her face.

"I expect you will take me to your leader, and I will then be assigned to a unit. All of this is correct, yes?" She questioned sharply. Sif did not grace her with words but rather a smug little nod. Alexes frowned, clearly disliking Sif. Regardless, it seemed she had no choice.

Samuel had found himself shackled with Candace, and was still rather quite concerned. Despite all his efforts to dissuade her from her mission, she was dead set. She believed that so long as her points held evidence and were eloquently put Nifren was sure to believe. [She didn't know Nifren](Italics) was the grim thought worming it's way deep into Samuel's mind. Despite this, he kept his goofy grin on his face all the while. Right now they were arriving at a small abandoned barracks. The gate lay in disrepair, the sign in tatters on the ground. The barracks itself was in no better shape either, the iron fence filled with many dents and holes, the windows shattered, and the building covered in vines.

"Ah. It seems we have quarters fit for a king tonight. After you, Candace." Samuel bowed slightly as the woman watched him, a bemused smile on her lips. With a slight giggle and shrug she strode past him entering into the building.

"If this is for a king, it must be the King of Thieves, my dear Samuel. All in disrepair.. but it is an adventure! And tomorrow peace will return to Etruria." She remarked with a grin.

"We can only hope that is the case." Samuel replied, his voice strained. Candace quickly claimed the nearest bed, before turning to Samuel once more.

"Good night, sir priest. We shall reconvene in the morning." She said as she laid down. Within a mere few minutes the woman was asleep and Samuel took a long deep breath. She was going to get herself killed, Nifren was not one to listen to reason. Didn't matter. Samuel would convince him, ensure things were stopped. The generals had never been the real problem, that was the king, yet Nifren had focused upon them. He was being idealistic and stubborn.

"Samuel... Just what exactly are you doing in some decrepit barracks? With a girl it seems." whispered a soft voice.

"Nifren? Shoot!" yelped Samuel clutching his staff in some weak form of defence. Nifren chuckled as he slowly walked into the barracks, his wo dao in his right hand. Leaning against the wall he stared at Samuel.

"Why did you run, Sam? You know these streets aren't safe anymore, and you have no way to defend yourself. So please. Come back." Nifren asked his voice low and soft.

"The streets aren't safe because of you! Your revolution has plunged them into this chaos, all because you think something is unjust!" Samuel exploded.

"Shush. Lower your voice. Your friend is asleep. Doubt you want to wake her. My revolution is the cause of this perhaps. You are allowed to believe that. What are you not allowed to do is die. And being on these streets when neither of you can defend yourselves particularly well is suicide. So you will come back with me." Nifren stated still talking quietly.

"And what about Candace? You'll leave her here? Kill her? Take another life in your silly little pursuit! I'm leaving Etruria and you shan't stop me." Samuel replied.

"Then why were you heading towards the Bear Pack?" Nifren asked calmly.

"Candace wanted to talk to you. Convince you that what you're doing is wrong. Change your mind. I couldn't let her go by herself in good conscience." Samuel stated anger bubbling beneath his words.

"My opinion won't change. She will be also brought back to the bar, and pressed into our employ. We can always use more healers. She shan't be harmed." Nifren yawned as he stood up waving several soldiers in. Before Samuel could say anything his arms were seized and he was dragged out. Nifren clutched Candace into his arms, ensuring she wasn't woken. It was time for him to head back to the Bar.

Frantrain frowned as the news flooded in. It seemed that Nifren had managed to turn the rescue mission on it's head, making himself out to be the hero. Day by day support grew for the rebel leader, whilst support for Frantrain and the established order waned.

"Sire, Orif's body has been retrieved. Dead at Nifren's hands, as expected." reported a court offical. Frantrain scowled. Only he, the Great General, was still capable of fighting. Orif had just fallen, and Riff was almost incapable of fighting. The man had stepped in after Celicia left, filling the gap while they searched for someone more skilled.

"Increase the Palace defenses. The King cannot die and, this place cannot be breached. Understood?" He barked. Several officials nodded and ran off to see to the changes. The palace itself was ablaze with activity. The red carpets that traditionally lined the floor had been taken away due to the sheer amount of traffic the place was receiving. Frantrain could not go five minutes without some new issue arising. The King constantly needing his attention - his illness growing worse by the hour, and there were officials bleating about Nifren's advances or rumoured talks of coups from the troops. It was enough to drive any man insane.

"General Fran!" squealed an official rushing towards the man. With a shake of his head Frantrain arose and strode outside, breathing in the air. Elibe seemed to be destined for chaos. First a war exploding across the continent and now civil unrest here. It seemed impossible. Yet here it was. The slow yet insidious collapse of rational thought and order. It wouldn't stand. Frantrain would be damned if he watched the world slide into the abyss.

"Commander Frantrain, it's good to see you. We have most troubling reports. Nifren has been taking our clerics and troubadours captive, and forcing them to join his ranks." said a man who had followed the General outside.

"Ah, Sir Riff. It is a pleasure. That may not be quite as troubling as you believe. If we were able to get word to them they could mutiny. During a vital battle they betray him and ensure us victory. The odds are in our favor. We merely have to win one fight, Nifren has to slog his way here. If we keep calm and collected we shall easily prevail." He stated.

"Like Orif was? I remember the last words he said. Quote, [I shall end that vermin Nifren](Italics). I don't think that turned out well for him now, do you?" replied the old mage.

"Orif is no longer here. Nor did he take a large amount of troops. In a way, his death is an asset. It makes Nifen cocky. I shall not fall so easily." laughed the General. Riff smiled sadly before sighing.

"Look at what this war has done to you already. Your humanity is gone. You worry more about his death being an asset than a tragedy. Much as you despise the man, Nifren mourns every loss. It does not atone for his sins - but it is the thought behind the idea. Regardless, don't let the palace fall." Yawned Riff as he strolled away. Fran tensed slightly as he shook his head. This war should have ended long ago. And it was time to see that hope become truth.

Alexes was fuming. Forced to follow Sif back to her employer, and there was no doubt as to what was to befall her. She would be forced into the employ of Nifren, and turned traitor against her country.

"You, keep up!" barked Sif as she rode back to Alexes, looking at her harshly but slowly her gaze softened. "Hm. I don't know your name, do I. Would you tell me?" Sif inquired gently, riding slowly alongside.

"Alexes. I'm just a troubadour. Why you have any desire to take me with you is beyond me." She replied. Sif merely chuckled as she kept riding.

"My Boss's orders. All clerics, valkyries, and troubadours are to be spared. We are short on healers, and as such you will be very useful." Sif said idly.

"And if I refuse to help. Will I be put to his famous blade? Bled dry while he sits there devoid of guilt?" She snapped back.

"You'll be held prisoner. You will be supplied with food and drink but you won't be allowed to leave. You shan't be killed. Nifren would rather not kill any more than he needs to." Sif sighed. Alexes was tempted to continue her questioning, but it seemed to be a poor choice. With a slight sigh she continued to follow Sif through the streets, heading to Nifren's headquarters. She presumed it was something full of grandeur and excess. The man did seem to be quite the hypocrite. If she were to hazard a guess she would choose the library. Large, and once the bookshelves were removed it would prove expansive. A library was also a place of knowledge, of which Nifren seemed to have very little.

"Ah, Here we are. Dismount, and I'll attend to your horse." Sif commanded as she climbed down, waiting for the woman to dismount. Alexes face was bemused. This was just yet another dingy street. To her left was row of decrepit shops the windows shattered, the doors rotted. To her right stood a makeshift stable row upon row of horse lined up. She watched as Sif took her pony over there, and ensured it had ample room. In front of her was a squalid bar.

"The Bear Pack Pub?" She mused, frowning. Sif merely nodded, opening the door. A thick waft of alcohol assaulted her nose as she balked. Sif however was quite insistent and shoved the woman inside.

"Ah. Sif. Good to see you dear, we found Samuel. And he brought a friend. A valkyrie. She doesn't like me much. Now, who might this be?" Nifren asked looking over Alexes. Alex gave him a cold stare, doing her best not to show her fear.

"A troubadour. One who won't serve your revolution. It's si-" She started to speak before he put a finger on her mouth.

"Enough said my dear, perfectly fine. Sif will see you to your cell. Food and water is given out every six hours. Please do keep the noise low." Nifren said with a slight hint of glee. Alexes' mouth went agape as she was pulled away by several men as Nifren smiled. Sif laughed, joy on her face.

"You're the cat who got the cream, then?" She said as she watched Nifren slide behind the bar.

"In some sense, yes. Samuel is returned, my lovely fiance won her battle, and Frantrain is losing his rag. Oh, and I killed Orif whilst you were out. Spot of good work that was." He beamed happily. "And support for our cause grows daily. Soon we'll have full public support." He smiled.

"You know what that means. Combat with Frantrain soon. Have we got any armor slayers? Your wo dao won't be effective." Sif stated.

"Have you as back up with your light brand. Should be easy enough. I hate armor slayers anyway. Too heavy and clunky." Nifren countered. pouring himself a large glass of beer, and Sif a large glass of wine. With a shared smile the two clinked their glasses together and drank.

"To liberty!" toasted Nifren.

"Right then, laddies. We got some work to be getting down to. The streets are in chaos, and those hoity toity upper class are running like their house is on fire. So I say we take our chances and get some goods." Prattled Marcven to his small group of young adults, a few younger children lining the ranks. The backdrop for this little discussion was the loft of the Bear Pack bar. Marcven had been quite the skilled thief back in his day, but that day had passed. So he had quickly set up a network of children who had nowhere to go. He treated them like his own children, and they provided for him. It was a symbiotic relationship. Prior to being housed in the Bear Pack bar they had resided in an abandoned mansion. Yet when the war started Nifren had searched for Marcven, needing a spymaster. When the two met Nifren quickly employed the man as a means of distraction for the upper class - Marcven, on the other hand, swore that he had managed to employ Nifren for protection. In reality it had been Celyn who had pushed Marcven into joining forces with Nifren. Celyn was the odd one out in Marc's little crew. She was a well learned Cleric. Many people would often wonder why she stuck around with such a deplorable man. Fact of the matter was she hardly had a choice. Orphaned at birth, Marcven was the first one to not only stumble on her but to take her in. From that point on he had raised her as if she were his own daughter.

"Who do we gives the loot to, Marc? We give it to yer boss Nifren?" inquired a small boy, wide eyed.

"My boss!? No, my dear sweet child, I am the one in charge here. Ya pass it all to me, alright? Then we divvy it up and take our share. Then, and only then, does Nifren get his ickle cut." Marc drawled with almost childlike glee.

"Indeed. It seems a good idea to antagonize a man who could very easily end your life." retorted Celyn as she seemed to drift into the room, looking aloof as usual. "No skin off my back." She said with a slight sigh. The many young boys in the room could not avert their gaze from her, long black hair, pale grey eyes, to them she was a thing of beauty.

"Eyes up here, lads!" barked Marcven trying to wrestle control back of the loft meeting. The loft itself was quite expansive, wide enough to house around fifty children alongside Marc. There wasn't much else in the loft, just a few clothes and occasional pieces of food. Much as Marc would like to say it was his efforts that got all the food, Nifren had been providing for him and his crew. "Your job today is simple. The General, and those rich gits, have gotten a large shipment of weapons in. Stuff that our boss could use. The dockworkers are loaded as well see. So get down there, and get that shipment.. and some extra loot, yeah? Do this old geezer proud!" He commanded as he stood. With that the children flooded out of the loft, dropping down into the bar. Marcven then turned to Celyn. The young woman was writing in that journal of hers again. Strolling over he sat down next to her, smiling.

"These lads like you, eh? Always gazing at you. my dear." He remarked in an attempt to make conversation.

"Yes. They really do. I'm glad they enjoy it." She replied flatly. "That shipment. What's inside?"

"Lance reavers, some steel swords, couple o' tomes. Why pray tell are you worrying your darling little head about it?" He questioned.

"That's good. Will allow Nifren to gain an edge. Most of Etruria's remaining forces use lances. Gives his men much better rates of survival." She stated calmly. Marc threw his hands in the air walking over muttering.

"Bloody miss know it all right here.." With a sigh he hopped down out of the loft. He needed words with Nifren.

The docks were quiet. The shipment had just been delivered and as such the many dockhands were busy with paperwork. Mind numbing bureaucracy would be useful for the first time tonight. With a good amount of the hands working on the papers, of which there was a lot due to the specialized nature of the weapons, the remaining dockhands were spread thin. The cache of weapons sat firmly in the middle of the warehouse situated just to the left of the dock. On the upper floors sat the office building, where most of the workers were, and on the ground floor was the weapons. The ground floor also housed several boats sat on either side of the cache. The guards stood around the cache were hardly top tier. Several of them just wanted to knock off, go home to their wives and children. The others tended to be thugs. Slowly, the children began to filter into the area. Their tattered clothes and grimy faces gave the illusion of them being street urchins, thus leading most people to believe these children were innocent. That was as far from the truth as one could get. With a quick look shared between the group, they soon set to work.

Several of the boys went directly up the offices, begging and yelling at the doors. This was an attempt to force a few guards away from the weapons to help. One guard ran off helping his companions, whilst the others merely rolled their eyes and remained at their posts. It would take more to displace these ones. With a wicked grin one of the lads quickly slipped his fingers into his mouth, perfectly imitating the whistle of a local gang. The guards tensed and one of them broke rank breaking for where the whistle came from. As he turned the corner a sandbag fell square on his head and darkness filled his vision. The boys grinned. Now only two men stood guard, and they quickly darted over to the twin ships lining it. With a wolf whistle from the right ship, a man inched over only to get his legs swept as his reward. With a cackle the boys jumped on the last remaining guard, pinning and knocking him out. With that they not just had to move the weapons. With a grunt each boy prepared to lift the crate, and soon it was in the air. The boys up at the office continued to run distraction as the shipment was lugged away, to be left at the Bear Pack Bar.

"My little chickens should be back soon, Nifren! When they are, you'll have your stash, and I'll have my money, I very much hope?" Marcven asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice as he adjusted his shovel hat and nervously tugged at his gloves. Nifren watched the man, looking deep into his pale blue eyes, eyeing the scraggy red hair. With a nod he replied.

"Yes. So long as they bring the shipment I'll supply you with the payment. Anyway, your information network. What does it have for us?" Nifren questioned.

"Sir Riff has permanently stepped in as the Mage General. They've finally abandoned their search for a new one, so that issue has been resolved. Besides that, we're still finding them faulty info. They think you operate in the Wolf Fang district thanks to little old me. You know.. some would say that's worthy of a bonus.." Marcven said with an almost childish smile. Nifren shook his head slightly, laughing.

"You're a deplorable man. Useful but deplorable. No bonus. But good work." Nifren said as he looked up at the moon. The two men were stood outside the bar, waiting for Marc's crew to return. "Why did you quit, Marc? You're only Fifty-Five, and you make these children do the work?" Inquired Nifren.

"My joints ain't what they used to be. And the thing is, god bless em, they won't get jailed or killed. Slap on the wrist and sent home. Shan't rat on me either. I look too… unusual see. The little blighters get me the money, and I ensure they live a happy little life. They get new clothes every week, and food on the table. I'm the only father they've ever ad, and you can't blame me for what I do." He sighed, on the defensive.

"Indeed. He's the only father I've known." Added a waifish voice, as Celyn seemed to materialize in front of them. Marc barely reacted, but Nifren nearly jumped. "Hm. Usual reaction when a person appears out of nowhere. I'd advise you to steel your nerve, Nifren. War requires nerves of steel due to the intense stress it places on a person." Celyn said matter of factly, before turning to Marc. "Father. I am to go to bed. Inform your workers to remain quiet when they return. Thank you." With that simple remark she drifted back inside, heading back to the bar. Marc smiled warmly as she vanished as Nifren watched the man.

"Father? Is that implying a woman at one point slept with you?" Nifren asked, incredulous at the thought.

"Nay. A woman has never been important to me. My business is my mistress… but as for Celyn, I found her when she was just a lil mite. Raised her myself! So in a way I'm her father, in the loosest sense of the word. But I love er like my own!" He stated, folding his arms. "Don't ya ever doubt that." Nifren nodded, as he continued to watch the stars. Marc quickly glanced to the left, then started to clap. "The lads are back, Nif! I'll ave em set the crate down on the bar and send em to bed." He said, busying himself. Nifren chuckled. Deplorable, but useable.

"Right. Now that my ickle mites are safe and sound let's see what we got 'ere. And discuss compensation, of course." Marcven added reminding Nifren. Nifren nodded as he pried the lid from the weapon's crate. Inside sat a hefty amount of lancereavers, a few Steel swords, a brave bow, and a tattered worn tome. Marven snatched the tome up before Nifren could react, looking it over and examining it.

"What is it, Marc? Something of value?" Inquired Nifren, watching the man in his element.

"Nay quite the opposite it seems. Nothing on it, and as for in it, well... This security is tighter than down at the bloody palace. Although these days, that ain't saying much." He gave himself a grim chuckle. "I'll keep a'old of it, if ya don't mind that is." Marcven asked. Nifren simply nodded as he slowly dug all the weapons out, far more concerned with his weapons than some old book. With a quick sideways glance Marcven slid the tome into his coat before nodding.

"I'll pay you the average fee plus one hundred. The brave bow will be most useful for Sif. As such you've earnt a small bonus. Enjoy it, and don't spend it all in one place." Nifren said as he continued to examine the case. With a slight nod Marcven palmed his money, before slinking back into the loft.

"Good night, Nifren. Get some sleep. Your war marches onwards, and I'll be by your side. As long as I'm paid..." With that closing remark, Marcven slammed the loft shut. With Ceyln asleep, and the boys resting he was alone. Striding to his desk he slowly placed the tome down, before rolling out a small cloth. Several lock picks glistened in the reflected moon light. His long spindly fingers slowly picked one out, as he looked down at the book's lock. With a quick and effortless move, years of experience at work, the lock sprung open. With a slight grin and nod Marcven placed the lockpick back in it's place before briefly flicking through the pages. What was contained inside shocked him as he quickly grabbed a quill and a tattered piece of paper.

"Dear Belph…. what do I say? He shan't take this serious.." Marcven scowled. Word had to get out, this... this… was insane! With that, he set to his letter.

"I appreciate you agreeing to permanently fill the vacancy, Sir Riff. While I know it was planned to be temporary... it will please our supporters to know you won't be leaving any time soon." Frantrain grinned at the old man. The Palace was now quiet, the moonlight seeming to cast an eerie calm upon the magnificent building. Riff merely scowled as he turned from looking out the window, locking eyes with Fran.

"I can understand. You are a disappointment to our people. They looked upon you to end this silly little revolution quickly. We should have done so easily. Nifren had no forces, nothing. You made tactical blunder after blunder and he was given breathing room. He's grown into a dangerous foe and you allowed Orif to ride to his death. You are supposed to be a tactical genius, and knowing you, you'll resort to the old phrase. He's not playing by the book. Correct. He's torn the rulebook up. Do the same! Else you risk our country slipping into chaos, and our people ruled over by an idealistic fool." Riff barked at the man, fury in his worn eyes. Frantrain had no reply merely nodding, cowed.

"I have sent for aid. Derius has sent three of his best men. They will be arriving sometime in the morning. Once they are here we can launch an assault. We have a problem however in the information sector." Frantrain sighed. Rif tensed up.

"Oh, do we now? Yes, I already know. Fake information. Reeks of Marcven, but there is little we can do. Even if the man is working for Nifren he is untouchable in the legal sense. The children do his dirty work, and they are too young to be charged. He himself has done nothing illegal directly for almost a decade now. Replace your spies it shan't matter. He has insiders everywhere. We will never have the same advantages. And as for your three men, they best be his very best. Otherwise we find ourself in a very dark place." Riff stated before walking away. With a weak shaky smile Frantrain headed back to his quarters and placed himself in a small wooden chair, merely staring at the wall. Here he would stay until daybreak.

Morning had come and the Bear Pack bar was ablaze with activity. Up in the loft Marcven was busy preparing his ruffians for their work, and today was a very special day.

"You fellas have a most important job today. The mage general, that old fart, is gonna make a speech. You loveable dears need to interrupt it yell and toss things at em. It'll be a lotta fun!" He cackled as he let them out of the loft, jumping down with them. "Sending my boys out now Nifren for a bit of pre speech pick pocketing. A man has expenses, you know?" He cackled again as he dashed away. Nifren merely rolled his eyes as he walked down to the prison cells, squatting down.

"Samuel. You must see the sense in what I am doing. If you can't, please just work with your friend. It pains me to see you caged up for stupid reasons." He pleaded weakly, as the priest looked at him with a slight lopsided grin.

"Yes. I'll join a man who wants to kill people to achieve his goals. Where do I sign? Oh, and consorting with a man who turns children into thieves. Moral fibre of the gods." Samuel replied bitterly as Nifren's eyes darkened.

"Alright Samuel. Let me tell you a story. The current king? Incompetent. He's plagued with illness, the Generals run the country now. Were they selected by us the commoners? By Marcven? Sif? Me? You? I don't think so. They run this land whilst we sit by unable to change it. I tried peaceful methods. Every time I was sent away, seen as a foolish youngster. If their blood has to oil the machine of democracy I have no hesitation to spill it. Unless you'd rather we suffer their stifling incompetency for another ten years. By all means sit in your cell. Take the coward's way out." Were the bitter words hurled at Samuel. With a sigh Nifren left the cellblock heading over to Sif.

"Dearest, take Alexes. I need you to attack the Brewery to the south. It's a morale raiser for the government troops and for some reason an information archive. Least that's what Marcven tells me." Nifren stated.

"Mhm. Marcven is a trustworthy man when it comes to his intel. It's how he has survived so long. I will see it done… and Nifren." Sif muttered softly.

"What?"

"Let Samuel make his choice. He has every right to be angry with you, and your constant moral sessions are very similar to the government. They see us as unjust and uncouth. His opinion is set." She said before walking out. "I'll get to work." Nifren frowned as she walked out, clutching his head. A wave of rage washed over him, before he shook his head. To work then. A large government camp had been set up to the north. Time to see it burnt to the ground.

Candace softly yawned as she stirred sitting up. She looked around, not very surprised to see herself in a cell. She looked to her left. Simple straw bed and water jug. To her right sat her escort Samuel. He seemed to be quite destitute. Nothing that Candace could not fix.

"Ah, my sweet Samuel. What ever has gotten you so vexed?" She asked softly smiling warmly. He looked at her dryly, before his trademark goofy smile returned. Instantly enveloping her in a hug he sighed.

"Nothing now that you are awake, sweet Candace. These prison bars are a blessing, trapping me with such divine beauty! You would make St. Elmine blush." He rambled. Candace laughed, satisfied he was happy.

"I have the most wonderful idea Samuel. We stage a jailbreak and send word to the Government forces. Sir Frantrain will surely see us rescued." She stated matter of factly. Samuel nodded.

"The only problem is that confounded lock.." He shrugged. "Alas." With that he rolled over, and decided to take to sleep. Candace frowned slightly but soon forgot about it. If she could not break free, then she would write a letter. Bribe that other fellow, the roguish looking one to deliver it. Reveal the location of her imprisonment, and he would storm the location bravely. She would first need paper and pen though.. not difficult to obtain. So long as she asked politely her request would certainly be granted. As on cue the man walked through the cell block, his green coat in tatters.

"Good sir, would you please bring me parchment and quill?" She asked. With a slight laugh the man spun.

"Pray tell my pretty darling why would I do that? Do you think old Marcven is stupid? You shall write some fancy letter to your government, sweetie. Can't allow that to happen. I'm no snitch, so don't ask again." He said with a flourish before strolling away. Candace was most bemused. That man was odd. Regardless she would find a way to pen her letter. Samuel's robes could be written on in a pinch, so all that was really needed was some form of ink. That were be easily acquirable so long as she asked anyone other than the old crook. Perhaps some of those lovely little boys she saw running around. Until then however she would merely have to sit and twiddle her thumbs. It was infuriating to do so, but she would soon be free.

"Alright men. The camp is to the north. Strong defences, and they're expecting us. The plan is simple. We send myself and our strongest units to the left. Our weaker men take the center. They rush forward, we smash em from behind. Our trademark tactic. If it goes pear shaped just hold the line. We'll make it through, I promise." He ordered. His men gave a loud clap and roar as he grinned. "Charge! Lets make these scum pay!" With that simple command the streets were filled with the sound of heavy footsteps charging forth to glory and freedom. Nifren however was focused and calm. This battle was a mere stepping stone, but it would be the first time that Nifren had used a lance reaver. He would have to grow used to the weapon if he wanted to be able to combat Eturira's mounted units and as such he would use this minor conflict to train himself. The sword felt light in his hand as he advanced forward, his men doing a superb job. A cavalier charged towards Nifren his iron lance extended. Without hesitation Nifren knocked it away, his lancereaver at work, and then stabbed the knight in the arm. The man fell from his mount and was rewarded with a slit throat.

"Hm. This new sword.. it fits." Nifren stated as he continued to be a whirlwind of death. His mere presence had a dampening effect on the opposition's morale, their very hearts sinking. "Fight forward, men!" He roared and with that, the battle raged on.

Frantrain had just heard the news. The Northern Army camp was under attack and Nifren was leading the charge. Every day it fell further and further out of control and it seemed that there would be no end to his misery. Any second now Riff would enter the room and detail his failing over and over and over and over and over. Fran shook slightly as he stepped out into the main palace, looking at Riff.

"Your people from Illia have arrived. I briefly spoke to them. Hardly going to change the tides of this war." He stated dismissively as he strolled away. Frantrain laughed slightly as he stepped out of the Palace into the cold air to meet them. They would fix the war, and what remained of his mind.

The Western Isles was hardly a place of peace during the best times. It was bandit infested, and lacking morally. The few villages that existed on the isles often had to struggle with poor crop growing conditions, unfavorable weather, and the fear of constant bandit raids. The war on the mainland however was quite the blessing in disguise. The many bandits that inhabited the isles saw a golden opportunity to head inland, and raid to their heart's content. The villages would give large sighs of relief. Yet it was not only bandits heading to the front. Men and women from the villages would head out to war as well, working for one side or the other. Searching for glory, love, income, and a multitude of other things they would hire themselves out as mercenaries. There is an old train of thought that war bolsters an economy, and for the Western Isles this seemed to be the case. Soon, the nation would be in motion.

Harris grumbled slightly as he pulled himself out of bed, walking over to his wardrobe. He reached inside pulling out his mercenary garb. Tossing it onto his bed he then moved over to his wooden shutters, prying them open. Sun flooded into his small room, coating it yellow. Briefly leaning out of the window, he looked down upon his home town of Armagh. Busy as usual, infact quite a bit busier than usual. War fever had infected the young folk of the town, and they were all buzzing to head to the mainland. Harris laughed slightly, wondering how many of them would survive or were actually prepared. Turning to his mirror, he snatched his clothes up. He slipped his red leather armor over his head, his brown hair ruffled by this action, before ensuring it was on correctly. With a nod he slipped the leather leggings one, and ensured they were a tight fit. With a contented grunt he then grabbed the steel sword leaning by his wooden door. In short order it was slipped into its sheath. And with that he was ready.

The streets were heaving with people. Harris saw dozens of prospective heroes darting off and chuckled. Woefully unprepared, all of them. Some of them did not even have food in their satchels, deciding to load up on weapons and vulenaries. Vulenaries don't heal empty stomachs. Regardless Harris would not fall prey to the same mistakes that they did. He was sure that several of them did not even have employment waiting for them across the ocean. Harris however was to be placed under the employ of sir Felius, the current leader of Pherae. Whilst he may not agree with the man's actions he did agree with the man's coffers. With Sacae also in the war Pherae was the safest choice. Ostia had woefully incompetent commanders and Horace was also rather cruel and dislikeable. Etruria was in the midsts of a civil war, and Illia was the land of mercenaries so they hardly had need for Harris. Didn't bother him much though, so long as he got his money. In front of him stood Bancroft's forge, and in he stepped.

"Ah, Harris. I have that sword you wanted. The silver forge, right? Left rack, subdivsion 4, bottom self." barked the stocky man who stood behind the forge, his brow furrowed.

"Thank you, Bancroft. Did you inscribe my name on it?" Asked Harris as he went to pick it up.

"Yes. Though I have no idea why you would want such a tacky thing done." replied the man, as he fumbled with the forge. A hiss and a loud crack were heard as sparks flew, illuminating the dingy room. The counter's mess was highlighted and Bancroft back up swearing. "Shit!" He barked trying to swat out the fire ablaze on his moustache. Harris rose his eyebrow as he sheathed the silver sword into his spare sheath.

"How much gold for the forge?" He inquired, trying to hide a smile as he watched the old weapons smith fumble with his burning mustache.

"Free. Can't have Harris going into danger unequipped." replied Bancroft as he finally spotted the flames out. "After all you think yourself to be some grand hero setting out on a quest." Stated the man drolly. Harris shrugged slightly.

"I am a grand hero. When I return I will write my memoirs and show just how much of a hero I was. Look after yourself, Ban." sighed the young man as he turned to leave. Ban shook his head as he watched the boy.

"You look after yourself. This war is a mistake, as is your involvement. You're just doing it for the glory, ain't ya? To try and make your famous? You'll die out there, son. Pherae is going to lose, and you've signed on with them." Snapped the man. Harris smiled warmly.

"See you aroundm Bancroft." He yawned as he stepped out of the forge. The elderly man sighed, returning back to work.

With a slight spring in his step Harris next entered the local tavern, the Needle Stab, and sat down at a table. The bar itself was quite a classy little deal, nice oaken tables with smooth comfortable chairs. The barmaids were all dressed conservatively and the food was worth the price. As for decorations several paintings adorned the walls - not wildly well done art but art nonetheless. Harris beamed. Later when he began to write his memoirs this meal would be the start of his grand story. As such his selection of food was quite important. Lamb would showcase his innocence, pork his thick skin and bravery, and beef his valor. Which was most important to the image of a hero was debated amongst writers but to Harris it would be valor. As the maid came over to his table he ordered the beef stew. Stew, he would write, is a lower class meal highlighting his down to earth personality. As for his drink he went with water. Budget and it held no connotation so he could drink it without worry. Once his meal was ordered he sat back, and closed his eyes. A quick sleep did no harm.

Soon the aroma of beef stew wormed it's way into his nose and he sat awake. Quickly grabbing the wooden spoon supplied to him he began work on his dinner. It was a rather somber affair, when Harris thought about it. Indeed, this could be his last meal. Shipping out today, dead tomorrow. In the ground and forgotten. The Brave Hero's story cut premature. He shook his head as he wiped his mouth calmly. That would not happen. He would survive, he would make it. As he finished his meal he fumbled with his coin pouch. He left the payment on the table as he went to the door, when a young woman briefly stopped him.

"My sweetheart, Harris! Please be careful when you go to war. Don't be a hero.. come back, and make me your wife!" Pleaded the woman. Harris nodded very slowly as she pulled away stepping outside. That one woman had always had a thing for him, and it had never been reciprocated. Nor would it ever be. A hero could not have a wife, it opened him up to vulnerability. If she were to be killed his heart would be broken, and him devastated. So no wife for the up and coming hero. His companion would be the battlefield and the many songs the bards would sing about him. Harris then returned to the task at hand, preparation. His next stop was the harbor to place his luggage in the boat and prepare.

The dock was a small one, befitting of the western isles, but the boat was anything but. The S.S Perafourth was a large imposing boat. It seemed to have pulled quite a large amount of passengers, prospective heroes. Men and women kept walking in and out, luggage in their hands. It seemed everyone was in the last steps of their preparation, all of their tales to soon unfold. Harris mused to himself about how many of them would return alive. He would presume the number would be miniscule, as the war on the continent was quite bloody. Casualty reports had found their ways to the isles and even small battles suffered death counts in the low thousands. It was absurd and foolish, but alas it was to be his calling. It was one of the few ways to become a hero, so he could hardly pass it up. Before he could enter the ship Harris, would need to enter the customs office and ensure his gear was permitted. Forged weapons had been banned in the past for unknown reasons and it was never quite clear when the law was in effect. Sliding into the small office he frowned, the line like a snake, long and winding. Folding his arms he entered the line sighing.

"Stressed?" Asked a soft female voice from behind as Harris looked over his shoulder. Behind him stood a tall red haired woman, crystal blue eyes almost burning their way into his soul. She was cloaked, a dagger in her hand. Leaning into Harris she smiled. "You're going to tell them I'm with you. Understand?" She purred as she then leant back. Harris shook his head confused.

"Why would I do that? I don't have the slightest clue who you are, and quite frankly I don't care." He replied his hand going to his sword. She shrugged.

"Touch that blade, and you'll be bleeding on this floor in no time. Help me out, and I let you live." She stated in a singsong tone, her dagger now drawn. Harris frowned as he watched her.

"If I am going to help you, then what's your name." He asked stiffly, his hand no longer reaching for his sword. The woman smiled warmly as she nodded.

"Evangeline." She said as she slowly slid her hand into his - all part of her act. Harris muttered under his breath as the two of them slowly walked forward in the line holding hands. "When we get to the desk, you tell them I'm your fiance." She stated as Harris could barely believe his situation. This was hardly befitting of an up and coming hero, but he nodded reluctantly.

"Name and purpose?" Yawned the desk bound official as he saw Harris and Eva walk up.

"Travel to the continent for work. Under the employ of Ph-" Harris began to speak, before Eva piped in.

"My fiance is going to work for Ostia. He's a mercenary for hire." She beamed. Before Harris could get another word in the official nodded and yelled for the next in line to move up. Eva dragged Harris away. "Something wrong? We are to head to Ostia." She said, watching the man.

"I was meant to go and work for Pherae! My paperwork-" He fumbled in his pouch dragging it out, "-Says I work for Felius!" He yelled shoving, it at Eva. The woman shook her head, turning it to him pointing to a line of text.

"I think that reads that you work for Ostia. Unless my eyesight is poor.. which I very much doubt. Sorry hun, but Horace is your boss." She said with a slight kick of her heels. "Now. We go to Ostia, or I slit your throat. I'd rather not do that of course, so just cooperate." Harris could hardly react, his mind running. The hell had just happened? With a sigh he found himself yanked on to the boat. To Ostia it was, then.


	6. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Renewal

"Sophia. Fae. We must go. Get up and prepare your things."

"Wha? Uncle... Delarin, what are you talking about?" Mumbled Fae as she slowly rubbed her eyes, sitting up. A grim, cloaked old man sighed as he scooped her up into his veiny arms.

"Hush my sweet. Where is Sophia? Has she left already?" He inquired in a soothing tone. Fae slowly yawned as she locked eyes with him, staring into his dark eyes.

"Fae saw Sophia go south. Fae don't know why, Sophia wouldn't say. She never tell Fae anything anymore.." pouted the young dragon. Delarin smiled slightly as he placed the young dragon down, nodding.

"Go wait outside. I need to dispose of our quarters. You have everything?" He asked as his hand rested on a small red stone. The young manakete nodded, before rushing back in. She snatched up a small doll, The hero of legend Eliwood, before scrambling out. Delarin chuckled before clenching his fist around the stone, slowly changing form. An imposing fire dragon had taken his place, it's beady eyes glaring at the small wooden house. It was unimpressive, the wooden beams infested with rot and maggots - it had almost collapsed several times. Yet it was discreet and covert, being located so far out in the desert. The sand shifted beneath Delarin's clawed feet as he reared his head back. Fae cowered slightly and soon the house was engulfed in Del's flames. A crackle was heard and smoke soon filled the pitch night. Delarin morphed back into his human appearance, grunting with exertion.

"Don't cower, sweet. Delarin might be a large dragon, but I shan't ever harm you. See the world burn first." Grinned the old Manakete as he slowly took Fae's hand, eyes gleaming. The divine dragon giggled slightly before running off, dragging the man behind him, his red cloak billowing in the air. The two were set to find Sophia, a half dragon, and their fellow companion. Unlike the two of them, Sophia could not transform - instead mastering the art of dark magic. She aged slowly, and having lived for many years had by now surpassed many of the legends in skill. Some scholars would argue that she had indeed grown more powerful than Brannimond itself, although this way a hot topic for debate. The three of them had grouped together due to circumstance. With Igrene unable to care for Fae, Sophia had contacted Delarin, and put the girl under his charge. Sophia refused to leave her young friend behind and travelled with them as well.

"Fae been wondering Delarin… how old are you for a dragon? Cause you look real old.." She questioned, looking behind at the elderly dragon. A dry smile creased his worn face as he softly shrugged his shoulders.

"Near the end of my time. Soon I shall die. But do not worry my dear, I will see our work completed. There is life in these leathery wings yet." He remarked as he slowly tousled the girl's hair. Fae whimpered slightly as she leant into him.

"Fae doesn't want Delarin to die…" She pouted before pointing forward. "There's Sophia! What is she doing?" Fae asked, quite confused. Delarin didn't answer as his footsteps grew rapid - darting towards the young druid. Fae struggled to keep up, but soon the two of them were next to Sophia.

"No!" Delarin roared, anger creasing his face. "She's been wounded. Lance marks... In the desert?" Delarin ruminated before scooping her up. "We are heading to the Dread Isle. It's time to finish this." He stated flatly. Fae continuing to follow behind him. Confusion clouded her face but she kept quiet as the two manaketes journeyed through the desert. Soon, however, curiosity got the better of her and she piped up.

"Delly, what's wrong? Who hurt Sophia, and why are we going to the Dread Isle?" She asked, shivering softly. Del shook his head as he kept walking, before releasing a heavy sigh.

"You should know. The continent of Elibe is engulfed in war. An engineered war. For what purpose I am not sure. I merely have theories. As to who engineered it, again I am not sure. Many theories. It's time to test them." He replied as he looked down at Sophia, frowning. "But first, we must find a healer. Sophia will die soon if we do not hurry." Said druid rested heavily in Delarin's arms, a large wound on her shoulder leaking crimson. Her purple hair seemed to grow pale - much like her face - with every passing step. Delarin would not allow her to die, not his charge. Yet it seemed that the desert went on forever, and his resolve was slipping.

"Del, we gotta go to Arcadia! They'll have healers there, and people like us!" Fae chipped in, running in excited circles. Delarin smirked slightly before nodding.

"To Arcadia, then."

The village of Arcadia had managed to avoid the effects of the current events transpiring across the continent. This could be attributed to their isolationism. It certainly helped that their guardian, Igrene, had kept a steely eye on events and prepared accordingly. Travellers were no longer permitted in the Nabata desert, a shoot on sight policy was implemented, and the humans who were currently in the village were prevented from leaving. Many other villages might have found this level of security oppressive or unnecessary, but Arcadia almost welcomed it. Safety was indeed paramount - and after all Igrene did know best. Certainly with the flames of war being fanned across the continent this seemed to be a logical choice. There were also rumours of wild manaketes roaming the desert, but they had never surfaced. Until today.

"Igrene! There are people at the gate, what do we do?" yelped a young man from the shoddily-built wall. A tent flap rustled open as the grey haired guardian stepped out, a gleaming arrow already notched. Igrene said nothing as she brushed past him, knelt down and prepared to shoot.

"Young Lady, Have you not learnt respect? Stand down to your elder." A look of confusion washed over Igrene's face as she tensed. Yet she did not loosen the slack of her bow. With a growl a red robed man stepped forward, pulling his hood down. "Kill me, my dear, and little Fae will be most upset. I would also be most upset to have to kill the desert guardian." drawled Delarin as Fae ran out from behind him.

"Igrene~" Squealed the little dragon as she lept into the arms of the archer. Delarin looked at the woman with disdain, before softly walking into the village. He turned and looked down at a citizen. Sophia was gently placed into the citizen's arms. The man understood immediately, and ran to get the nearest healer. With a shake of his head Delarin glared at the town. "Such decadence. The old ways torn down in place of this... blending." He almost hissed. Igrene looked at the aged Manakete, before placing Fae down. She motioned for her to head into the village and play. With a slight nod and giggle Fae bounded off. The guardian of Nabata then turned to Delarin, placing her hand on her hip.

"Such decadence might just save your friend. You'd do well to be grateful." growled the weathered woman, her skin almost like leather. The elderly manakete turned, a hefty air of gravitas about him as he looked down at her.

"Decadence indeed has its uses. But you perhaps are the most deplorable type of person. To guard such decadence willingly.. and proudly. Manaketes should not be near all these.. humans." He paused before continuing. "Sophia is an exception, before you attempt to catch my fallacy. Half dragon, and not prone to the ill behaviors of man." lectured the manakete. Igrene looked back at the dragon and almost laughed before shaking her head.

"Decadence? No, progress. Dragon kind isn't as perfect as you'd make believe. I've seen the way your kind-" she almost snarled that word. "-Acts. Hateful. Spite driven... regardless, this place is a safe haven. For humans and manaketes alike, and I will not stand to see some old wyrm enter my home asking for help, and then going so far as to insult it!" She yelled, her voice having steadily risen during the whole speech. "As it stands you find yourself incredibly lucky to even be allowed with the boundaries of this land. As soon as Sophia is patched up, and I say goodbye to Fae, you will leave. Never come back. Understood?" She growled. Delarin looked at the woman with a mix of bemusement, anger, and confusion, his red robes ruffling in the wind. With a hefty shrug he turned and looked up at the stars. No words left his mouth, as he waited for the young Druid to return.

"Fae? Is that you?" Hummed an excited, youthful voice. "It is! Fae, it's been so long!" Squealed the voice. Fae laughed joyously as she entered the building. Inside the worn building was a small wooden table. Dust had gathered on it from a lack of use, alongside an array of bowls and cutlery. A wooden chair was against the wall, and sat in said chair was a youthful looking woman. Purple hair rested upon her head, and two eyes - one red, one green - filled her skull.

"Idenn? Fae missed you!" Fae yelped before propelling herself into the lap of the other dragon. Ideen laughed with joy, running her fingers through Fae's hair.

"I've missed you as well, Fae! You been having fun with Sophia?" Asked Idenn softly as she held her friend close. Fae nuzzled against the woman before nodding.

"Sophie's taken me to lots of nice places! Pherae, Erturia, even Bern! But then wuncle Delarin said we had to hide… something bad was coming.." pouted Fae. Idenn tensed before looking the youth in the eyes.

"Delarin?" Idenn inquired softly a slight hint of tension in her voice. Fae nodded as she immediately began talking.

"Uncle Delarin! He's like a really old dragon… he's older than you! He took me and Sophie to a nice house in the desert. Said we have to hide... and someone bad was coming!" she exclaimed. Idenn continued to tense up but she softly placed Fae down.

"Why don't you do me a big favor and go get Uncle Delarin for me, sweetie? I think I know why he wanted you to come to Arcadia." She asked softly. Fae nodded and dashed out of the room heading back to find Del. As soon as she was sure that Fae had left, Idenn abruptly stood up. Shaking she stepped over to her bookcase before gripping it. Within in the second the bookcase was slammed to the ground, Idenn shaking with rage. "Of course… he's back. Why.. wouldn't he be.." She panted before sitting back down. No point in getting angry now. Can't let him get the upper hand. With that in mind she simply sat, and waited.

"Shit. Boss ain't gonna be happy with this…"

"Acute observation, Rigros. He assigned you the job to find Delarin, and what you've found is a burnt out shack. Oh, and maggots." tutted the woman standing with him. "We have quite the task on our hands now."

"Lyra. I have my doubts that it'll be difficult to find a dragon. They don't, well, exactly blend in now do they?" snapped back her male counterpart. Lyra leant in with a very wide grin.

"Rigros. I have my doubts that you can do any job… remember how sloppy you were with Roy?" She asked him in an almost sickly sweet voice as she went back into her normal pose. Rigros would not be cowed as he snapped back.

"And I remember how much you enjoyed stabbing yourself. Gives you a rush, don't it?" He sniped getting into the female assassins face. With a curt smirk Lyra leant back, and then simply headbutted the man. Rig grunted as he fell to the ground in a heap. Lyra span on her before sighing.

"Get up. We need to report to the boss. Luckily for the both of us, I have an idea as to where they went." stated Lyra coldly she began to walk through the desert. Rig muttered to himself as he stood up, dusted himself off, and followed after her. All that could be heard in the desert for a while was the trudging of the assassin's black boots, and all that could be seen was their billowing longcoats. Eventually they reached an old ruin. A circular building with a dome roof, it seemed to have been created at the very beginning of Elibe. Vines curled all around it, blanketing the structure. It was clear that it had not been used for many years. There did not seem to be any means of entry, but Lyra stepped forward regardless. A small rectangular shape extended out of the wall, with a round almost bowl like hole. Rigros mumbled under his breath as he watched her.

"Get your jollies then. Cut yourself up… freak." He grumbled as the female assassin carefully placed her arm over the bowl. With a quick flick of her other hand her dagger was poised over the arm. With one swift movement a trickle of blood sprung forth, filling the bowl. Lyra then stepped back, rolled her sleeve, and waited. With very little ceremony the door opened and the two assassins stepped inside.

"No. That can't quite be right… can it? Tch. Welcome back, Rigros. And Lyra. I presume you have good news for me?"

"Of course. Lyra will report the findings to you." replied Rigros tensely. If looks could kill, the glare that Lyra gave him would have been fatal. Nonetheless, she launched into her findings.

"Peraforth. We found the shack that Delarin was reported to have been living in. However, it was burnt down. I assume that the beast is trying to hide his tracks. The logical conclusion is that he is heading to Arcadia. Likely due to you wounding Sophia. Arcadia has healers, and as such he will be heading there. Rumors are abound that Fae, and Idenn are present." She reported. "And sir. If you could activate the lighting, that would be desireable." She added to the end of the report.

"Of course, I can do that. Excellent work on your findings." replied the man. There was a loud click, and suddenly the room was engulfed in light. The interior of the building seemed to be a mixture between a library, alchemy lab, and a home. A large bed rested against one of the far back walls. It was a simple, single bed, with a woolen blanket. In the center of the room was a large wooden table. It encompassed about half of the space with many scraps of papers and various books littered across its surface. The rest of the room was filled with glass tubes, bubbling liquids, and other chemical constructs. Standing at one of these many glass tubes was a tall man. Lengthy grey hair which trailed down to about his shoulder, paired with piercing blue eyes. A physique that could only be described as lithe yet muscular, coated in worn black robes. In the annals of history this man would be known as Peraforth. "We must move immediately. Rigros, prepare the men. Lyra, stay with me." Commanded the man as he turned from his experiments. Rigros did a mocking salute before walking off, leaving the dome. Peraforth then nodded to Lyra. "We will attempt diplomacy first. All that needs to occur is related to Delarin. We must cultivate an air of… civilization amongst the locals. No need to turn them on us. Understood?" The female tutted, but nodded. With that Peraforth rolled his shoulders, pulled his cloak up, and exited the dome.

"No. I won't help. Rather, you can help. Here is what I need you to do. Leave Fae and Sophia with me. Leave Arcadia. Head back to that shack of yours. And just die. Wither and die. You shan't be missed."

"... Delightful. It is nice to see that you have not changed, Idenn. Still the young powderkeg. Always spoiling for a fight.. always ones you won't win, too. Losing to that boy, Roy. Shameful. And now you choose to waste away in this… abomination of a town? Such power being squandered."

"Yes, Delarin. Such power squandered. For the safety of all. I cannot, and will not, allow my powers to run wild. I am never losing control again. To ask me to fight for the reasons you ask? Never." Growled Idenn as she sat across from the elderly manakete. Delarin merely chortled, before leaning in closely.

"Then when the world burns. When the world is torn asunder. Death and decay will be the norm. It will be your fault, Idenn. The Dragon who fiddled whilst Elibe burned." retorted Del. Idenn merely leant back, cocked her head and laughed, almost in hysterics.

"Rich. This comes from the dragon who watched as I was forced against my will. Who saw what Roy was trying to fix and didn't help. A dragon of your caliber could have solved it in a flash. Far less bloodshed, less misery, less suffering. I forgot though. A bigot would not care about that. After all.. what are humans to you? Food? Pawns? Toys?"

"Irrelevant. The manakete race was important. It would have been at more risk had I gotten involved. I could not intervene, and you full well know why. Now, you ignorant little girl. You will fall in line. You will create more war dragons, so that I can stop the evil that is set to DESTROY OUR ENTIRE WAY OF LIFE!" Roared the normally reserved manakete, the veins bulging on his face. Idenn watched this and with a rueful laugh shook her head.

"No. I will not create any more of those... things. The fact that the only war dragon with emotions is still alive disgusts me. You were gifted the power of emotion that your brethren were robbed of. Yet you use it to spread venom and hate. You are the greatest mistake to come out of the manakete race. Step outside the tent. Leave. And never RETURN!" Snapped the mage dragon. Delarin's face morphed into one of rage and a glow enveloped him.

"You've made a mistake, Idenn. A fatal one." He gurgled his voice growing more and more guttural. Soon a towering red dragon had taken his place. "Now you will face the consequences of your impu-" Just as Delarin was about to finish the tent was rocked and a large explosion seemingly rippled through the desert. He paused, looking around to locate the source.

"Shame. Democracy had to fail. These people could not just hand him over. Rather they lied about housing him… fools. Now I must make an example. Lyra. Lead the mercenaries. Spare Children. Not the women. Rigros, you are with me. We find Delarin, apprehend him, and return home." growled Peraforth. "Everyone. Please prepare. I am deploying the Falsuremorg engine. It will weaken any war dragon in the nearby vicinity. It should do no harm to you." With that a small square device was taken from within Peraforth's robes. With one swift movement he crushed it within his hand, releasing a pulse of magical energy. A split second later an explosion rippled out from Pera, travelling into Arcadia. Unfortunately, one mercenary screamed before dissolving into sand. "Tch. Unlucky… need to refine the process. Shame." With a spin of his hand a long black halberd flickered into existence. With an almost primal roar Peraforth charged forward. Lyra however would not follow her leader. Hunching over slightly, she moved to the nearby wind-worn walls of Arcadia.

"Time to let go.." She muttered before sinking one of her knives into her lower stomach. The pain rippled through her body as she shuddered. "Yesss… let's dance, pretties." With that, she tensed her knees before springing up and grabbing onto the ledge. With a grunt she managed to drag herself atop it, blood trickling down her all the while. It seemed that the people of Arcadia had not had a chance to man the walls, the charge of the mercenaries taking them by surprise. From her vantage point Lyra could see the destruction in all it's glory. At the back of the town was their target Delarin. His reputation was well earnt as he tore through ranks of men with ease. But something was wrong with him, his form fluctuating. Perhaps age had gotten to him and his mastery over his form was slipping. Igrene that fool was in the midst of the battle, doing her best to stop the many mercenaries. With a self content sigh Lyra brought both of her hands up to her shoulders. Knives glinting in the moonlight, she lept from the ledge, spinning as she fell. Her knives tore apart several defenders, their blood mixing with hers as she hit the ground. She giggled as she looked at the bodies piled around her, blood draining onto the sand. With an almost slasher esque smile she continued to carve her way through the defenders - rolling, jumping, and lashing out at anything that got too close. Cut by cut, man by man, she made her mark on the defenses.

Elsewhere, however, the fight for Arcadia was not going so well for the aggressors. The squad of mercenaries headed by Rigros had hit heavy resistance. Igrene had selected this squad to personally take out, and the guardian of Nabata would not fail. Ducking in and out of buildings, a slight flash would be all that was seen by the mercs, before an arrow housed inserted itself into their gullet. Morale was low in the unit, and it was certainly not helped by their leader's reaction.

"Keep close to me! We are to retrieve Sophia, regardless of how many of you shits die!" growled the assassin. The only redeeming factor was the fact that Rigros was at least able to carve a path. He was far cruder in style than his female counterpart, with sloppy slashes that relied on his raw power. Yet despite this the defenders of Arcadia gave it their everything. Manaketes and humans fought as one, giving their everything to delay the mercenaries progression.

"Rally to me! People of Arcadia, we must drive back this foe! Today we stand defiant!" Yelled Igrene, her bow still reaping a bloody harvest. Next to her stood a youthful girl, silver hair long covering one eye. A simple understated ribbon resting in her head.

"Madam Igrene. Is there hope for us to win?" Asked the young girl as she too calmly notched an arrow before letting loose.

"Bya. So long as you and I still draw breath, hope still exists." She replied before frowning. "But we must move quickly. Idenn and Fae are in need of our assistance. Move." She barked, commanding the girl. The two nodded, before taking a deep breath. With that they burst out from their cover, firing off a volley, and rolled into the next building. Rig scowled, watching the two.

"You, men! After the big beast. Kill it, if you can. I've got two archers to hunt." He growled before shooting off to the left. With a grunt Rigros slammed his shoulder through the brittle wooden door of the building the two archers had ran into, his cleaver glinting in the moonlight. Stairs immediately to his right, but the roof itself had crumbled so much from the collateral damage, that simply walking up was also an option. With a guttural yell he flung himself as high as he could, clasping onto the roof. Pulling himself up, he saw that only Igrene was upon this roof. The other archer was nowhere to be seen. It would do. Darting towards her, he slashed horizontally. It was at this moment that Igrene turned around. It seemed age had dulled her reflexes and her eyes went wide, the cleaver tearing a hole in her stomach. She fell back, falling hard against the building.

"This is it… the desert guardian about to die… by my hand! MINE!" Roared Rig in a jubilant voice. Igrene's bow laid to the side, and Rigros squatted, pulling out a much smaller knife. With a crooked grin he plunged it into the woman's left eye, quickly yanking it out. "Don't worry dearie.. you'll live. Have to take you back anyhow~" He mocked in a singsong voice.

"One more move… and regardless of who you are, I'll have you f-f-feathered" panted a female voice from behind him. Rig turned his head slightly, still squatting. When he saw who it was, the assassin turned his one good eye reading over the woman. It was the silver haired archer. Perfect. Two in one. "Stay back!" She yelled, her nerves betraying her, panic evident in her voice. Rigros was not deterred and continued to advance, humming to himself.

"You won't shoot me. Greenhorn.. it's different, isn't it. When the person is close to you, in your face.." He laughed, a wheezing aching laugh. "When I gut you… I'll carry a lock of your hair." He was almost close enough to slash her now. "I will tre-" A loud thud was heard, Rigros falling hard on his back. An arrow was lodged between his now empty eyes, as Bya shook. With shaky step, she moved to Igrene. Would there be time to save her?

"Fae! Stay close to me Fae, it's going to be alright!" Yelled Idenn as she held the small manakete close. She had hoped that it would not have come to this. Luckily for Idenn, Fae had not been fair. Indeed ,she had just been in the building across from were Del and herself had their altercation. Shortly after everything had kicked off, Idenn had headed there with all haste. The young manakete was now safe, and curled up next to Idenn who was still yet to transform.

"Idenn! We nweed to get Sophia!" exclaimed Fae, the worry and panic evident in her voice. Idenn cursed under her breath. Sophia had been housed in the medical bay which happened to be at the other end of the town - where most of the fighting was.

"Alright. Stay close to me.." Idenn sighed as she took a deep breath. In a flash the young woman was gone, replaced with a towering dragon. Not quite the size of Delarin, but to her opponents it made little difference. All they would see before they died was a purple dragon rampaging through them, and a tiny girl secure on the dragon's back.

"There! I see her, Idenn!" Yelped Fae as she pointed to the medical building. It seemed to have managed to avoid any damage as a result of the fighting and there was no sign of any fighting inside. With a growl, Idenn shifted back to her human state as she advanced towards the building. Just as she got close enough to open the door, a loud thump could be heard, and a hooded figure garbed in black was sent flying through the wall.

"He..he..he. Don't you get it, darling? Pain doesn't slow me down~" exclaimed Lyra as she clambered up, shaking off a coat of dust.

"Well, I'm sure death will." was the understated reply from the unseen person. Idenn vaguely watched the scene, before bursting into the room.

"Sophia! Let's go!" She snapped before seeing who that unseen person had really been. Purple hair and cloak billowing in the wind, eyes glinting with steel - Sophia stood calm and confident, dark energy crackling at her fingertips. She briefly cocked her head, acknowledging Idenn and Fae before turning back to Lyra.

"We'll leave when I'm finished, Idenn. Get yourself and Fae out of the gates. Leave Delarin. Lost cause." She stated sharply and bluntly as she watched her assassin foe. Idenn nodded, grabbing her young charge, and booking it to the town exit. Content that her friends were safe, Sophia was now ready.

"Such a pretty darling like you.. you'll make a fine dinner." Hissed Lyra as she advanced on the Druid, her knives now stained red. Sophia just smiled softly to herself and waited. Lyra would not waste any time. With a hiss she lept forward, rolling to the side in a preemptive attempt to dodge, before attempting to stab Sophia. For her effort, Lyra found herself caught in Nosferatu stuck and bound. Sophia calmly completed the spell, Lyra's energy becoming hers, then flinging her hard into a wall. Slowly turning she stepped over any rubble, heading towards Idenn and Fae. It seemed, at least, that the dragon trio had made it out.

Delarin's jaw clamped down, cleaving the poor man stuck in it in half. The hand made a soft splat as it landed in the sand, and Delarin's work continued. A swing of his claw decapitated several men, limp headless bodies falling. Moral was undoubtedly low for the attackers. About half of the force attacking Arcadia had been dedicated to felling Delarin and about half of the force had been felled by Del. It seemed the elderly dragon would manage to ride this out.

"Men! Fall back! I shall handle this now. Delarin, I appeal to your honour! I challenge thee to a one on one duel! Surely a beast like you can handle a pitiful human like me!" Roared Peraforth, commander of the forces, as he finally arrived. Del wanted to reply. Yet he was too focused on maintaining his form. Whilst to the outside eye it may have looked like Delarin was having no problems with this fight, something was wrong. He had been having major trouble sustaining his form. It was minor things, but he'd flicker almost returning to human before he pulled himself back. So when Peraforth issued the duel, it was all he could do to nod. With a cocksure grin, Pera span his halberd before laughing. "Just.. one strike." He muttered to himself. Delarin opened with a left swipe of his large claw, which Peraforth rolled under. The next move was an attempted bite. Perafroth simply jumped back. As Delarin went to breath fire it finally happened. He could not hold the stew that was his racism, his anger, and holding his forming together and so it boiled over. With a shudder, he shifted into his human form. Peraforth saw his chance, and claimed it. The halberd sunk deep into the elderly dragon's neck, and just like that it was over. Such a beast… felled so easily. "Harvest him. Burn this place, and harvest anyone left. Then salt the earth." Commanded Peraforth. It seemed that now the flames of destruction were crackling.


End file.
